Blackest Night
by AaronTim
Summary: Follows the exploits of mercenary Atticus Finch as he attempts to hold onto a sense of a justice in a world gone mad. Featuring a who's who of fictional and historical characters adapted into a new world with an original plot. The first season finds our hero teaming up with amoral Edgar Allan Poe to uncover the truth of the mysterious and dangerous Snow Industries.
1. Chapter 1

**Blackest Night**

Episode One

Atticus stepped through the seemingly empty streets with his rifle held firmly in both hands. Within a moment's notice he could have it readied against his shoulder, eyes trained down the sights at his target. He was prepared for such an action since he had set foot in the streets. There was a quiet air about the neighborhood, and the sound of a calling black bird was all that was heard reverberating through the barrenness. Aimless newspapers twirled through the gusts of vacant air that whistled as they brushed against the iron rain gutters. A soda can rolled and clanked against the ledge of the sidewalk as it dipped in the storm drain. Atticus' steps were precise and purposeful. His ears took in all the nothingness, every spot of irregularity was dinner bells in his ears.

A screeching howl from the throat of a cat twisted him to his left where he stared down a dank and uninviting alleyway. The owner of the howl rushed from behind an overstuffed tin trash can as Atticus ventured forth. It brushed passively passed his feet and into the empty streets behind him but Atticus took little interest in the startled animal for his eyes were locked on the forward progression his feet were carrying him.

Then in an instant the rifle was readied and he took a knee. The rifle was aimed forward toward an alcove between some dumpsters and the towering brick wall on his right. A shaking shadow eminent on the cement, produced by hidden light from a window just above.

"Step out." Atticus spoke with controlled command. His arms were steady and he pressed the stock a bit more into his shoulder. The shadow on the earth grew slightly as its owner was now standing at its true height and not at its hiding posture. Atticus searched slightly, lining up a headshot with his rifle in accordance with the distance of the shadow. "Step out, or I'll shoot you dead." Atticus commanded.

There was no response. The shadow remained, its owner exposed but not cooperative. His rifle shook slightly, but not enough to falter the sight line. The muscles in his arm were weak for it had been two days without sleep. His weakening arm was a side effect of his stubborn determination. If this was his target he couldn't let it go. He needed this done, he needed to rest. Slowly Atticus rose to his feet, his rifle prepped, and loaded.

He had only taken a step when the figure emerged with arms raised, and fingers pointed to the sky. "I couldn't stop him." The woman said. She was clothed in a harlequin dolls outfit. The ends of her red and white jester's hat slung in opposite directions. The dangling bells ringing out as they swayed and tapped against the side of her head. Her face was painted a pure white, her lips the color of pitch.

"Where is he Harley?" Atticus said in the same tone he had held when he first arrived here.

"Where's who?" Harley played back. She took a step forward with her arms raised up. The gloves were powder white on the palms, and red atop. It was same vibrant color that matched her skin tight costume. Her feet were in heels that tapped upon the cement as she stepped. Then she stopped in place. She cocked her hips to the side and brought her fingers to hang on the side of her waist, while her other hand brought her index finger to her lips and she attempted to search her brain for an answer to Atticus' question. "You must be speaking of Mr. J."

There wasn't a moment that she moved that Atticus didn't have his sights trained on Harley's head. It was a location between her eyes closer to the left than to the right. "No more games." He said.

"No games Mr. Finch," Cackled a voice from behind him, "just jokes." Atticus twisted around with an unbelievable velocity but there was nothing except a set of three cackling teeth with legs shuffling across the entrance of this trap. Atticus returned to Harley as he heard the sound of her heels beneath her steps. She made to cross to an intersecting alley when he let his finger find the trigger. The round entered and exited through her calf and she stumbled down. Her face planted against the pavement, but her tenacity brought her back to her feet within moments.

Atticus knew she wouldn't get far, and as if in the same instant his gaze went back to the teeth. He pulled the bolt up and back on his rifle and expelled the empty shell and slammed it forward and back down readying the next. He fired at one of the teeth, and then repeated his steps till all three were gone. He had to be sure they contained no traps, for he knew his target too well to fall for any again. Two months ago he hadn't been as wise.

Two months since of tracking, of scarce meals, of limited sleep. Two months since he had had him cornered and restrained. Two months of getting so close he could smell the stale sweat on The Joker's chin, the rotted breath passing over rotted teeth. The taunting bodies, with permanent smiles carved in their faces. Atticus wasn't about to quit. If he had only shot him dead when he had the chance, but the reward halted him and it required the clown to be alive and kicking. How many more people would have to suffer, and how many people already had? The Joker had too many connections, too many schemes, that it almost seemed worthless locking him up with the imminent possibility of his escape. Even then, Atticus tried to reason, that somewhere underneath that filthy white skin was a man who deserved trial.

The teeth it seemed where nothing but distractions, just old standby toys that his target carried around for such an opportunity as this, but he would have had to have been close in order to set them up. He had to have been just around the corner winding them, setting them down, and letting them loose. It was another taunt, another stink of breath. Atticus threw the strap of his rifle over his arm, and turned back to talk to the woman. A hand clenched into a fist, releasing some aggression, trying to preserve a sense of calm.

Upon the pavement where she had fallen were the remnants of white make up resting atop the gravel and a thin blood trail that lead into an open door way. There was a loose chain with a padlock cut and lying useless upon the ground. The woman's blood was upon it and inside a flickering light. Atticus entered.

A row of lockers lined the walls and various school papers were littered upon the floor so that one could barely make out the black and white tiles underneath. The lights flickered dimly, and the cold air escaped out of the opened door behind Atticus. The blood trail passed over more papers, and Atticus followed. His eyes stayed forward, his peripheral vision remained aware.

All was dead silent until the sound of feedback came from the overhead P.A. system, and the familiar cackle rang out gleefully, "Mr. Finch to the principal's office. To the principal's office, Mr. Finch." The mad horrifying laughter followed for some seconds before the system was silent again. Even though Atticus could not see the man he was at least headed in the right direction. The Joker wouldn't run yet, he would first surprise, and bruise Atticus, both in body and spirit in an attempt to break him. Then he would flee, getting two steps ahead again, but always keeping his presence known. Not this time however, Atticus vowed, this time it ended.

Harley's trail stopped in front of a locker that she was poorly hidden in. "Please Mr. Finch. We only wanted to play." She said in her best effort to sound innocent. Even if she was afraid of Atticus now, she was more afraid of the clown prince. He knew she was still a part of some scheme. He dropped the rifle into his palm, and kept it aimed at the locker.

"Step out." He simply said. Slowly the locker door opened, and Harley no longer had her jester hat upon her head, instead her hair was now exposed in a little bun, and her forehead devoid of makeup. There were scratches going down the length of her left cheek which exposed the peach color of her skin. Atticus' eyes shifted to her leg, where her hat now served as a makeshift tourniquet. "What's the plan?"

"Oh you know Mr. Finch he only tells me the beginning and the middle. He keeps the end in that pretty little head of his. He likes to surprise everybody after all." She was speaking honestly, and Atticus was disgusted with the admiration she showed her boss.

"You're telling me the truth, I know that much," Atticus stepped closer gun still pointed at Harley, and she backed up with each step until the back of her foot hit the bottom of the locker. She took a step up and was soon crouched back inside. "Let's just make sure you stay out of trouble." Atticus said as he shut the door.

"You can't keep me in here Mr. Finch. Mr. J is gonna be furious something fierce. Just wait till he finds out what you did to his little doll." Harley screamed as Atticus' steps faded from her hearing.

After taking a few turns and passing various doors with black numbers next to them on the white walls, Atticus found what he was looking for. From the ceiling there dangled a sign that swayed as it sat just under a ventilation fan and it read: _Principal's Office_. When he arrived at the door he aimed the barrel down the length of the room, and placed his back on the opposite wall he had entered from. Atticus moved slower now as he entered.

There began a loud cackle of laughter as the white skinned psychopath stepped out from a side office, his hands were covered in long ago dried blood. Along the right length of his face there were office staples holding together skin from a recent wound.

"Looks like someone beat me to you." Atticus stated.

"Oh this," The Joker gestured with his eyes to the scar, "Just a scrap I had a day or so ago." He held the back of his palm up to the side of mouth and whispered, "You should see the other guy. His fault. He just didn't understand me."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Oh it's true, I think there's only one man who understood me, but he's not as travel logged as you are Mr. Finch. Nor does he have The Factions wealth backing him up. How much are they paying you to waste your time on me? Surely your funds have dried out. You must be the _laughing _stock of mentors, pupils, girlfriends. You name it. Oh what a failure you are Mr. Finch. Too bad The Faction won't let you kill me." He playfully taunted. He forced his smile wider than it could go, which caused the wrinkles in his face to unclip a couple of the staples, letting the skin flap open slightly.

"I know the law Joker." Atticus retorted. In the clowns presence he kept his finger softly on the trigger.

"I'm sure you are well versed. I know the laws too Atticus, remember Dick?"

Atticus knew full well who the Joker was talking about.

"You remember how I knew the laws of gravity would spatter him upon the pavement. Do you recall the sound?" The Joker gleefully begged as he slapped his hands together. "Splat."

Atticus lifted his rifle up. "Don't tempt me."

"Oh but you know I will. After all that you've seen me do. All my handy work. All those people I made so undeniably happy. You think that someone like me, someone who could do such wonderful things is going to be afraid of a little bullet?"

"It could kill you."

"Killing people is my thing Atticus. Not yours." The Joker moved to an office chair that was rolled away from its desk, and he sat. The sights remained glued on him as he continued speaking, "Why kid yourself with such empty threats? You come from a long line of men I know who live by the same code."

Atticus kept the gun trained, "I suppose you do know me. I don't share your wild imagination." He lowered the gun, and returned it to its place dangling on his shoulder. "What's the plan then? Push me until I go to shoot you and then…"

"Oh how you love to skip the anticipation. You want me to go straight to the punch line. But how I love making you think you're so close, and then to just rip it out from under you." His grin turned to annoyed anger, "And look how you go and ruin it." He twirled around in the desk chair. "So now you've willfully walked into a trap yet again."

"Suppose I'm a sucker for it." Atticus admitted.

The Joker locked eyes on him and a smile cracked at the side of his mouth, "Suppose you are." He patted a spot under his lapel where a purple and green flower rested; as he did so a splash of water ejected across the room onto Atticus' face. The Joker laughed hysterically, gasping for air in the process. Then he stopped as he stood to his feet, but as Atticus removed the puddles of water from his face the laughter began again. It appeared the maniacal menace could not be contained. "Oh hell I'm so sorry," he gasped in humorous ecstasy, "you should just see the look on your face." He waved his hand dismissing his behavior as he turned away as if embarrassed.

Atticus took this as his chance and stepped forward ready to subdue him but it was then the laughter stopped and The Joker twisted about. There was a flash of electricity and a jolting sound as two prods attached to wire found their way to Atticus' chest and neck. He convulsed and was frozen in electrical spasms for a moment before he felt his knees give way dropping him hard to the floor. The Joker's laughter echoed as his world went shapeless and dark.

The Joker slapped Atticus across the cheek with deliberate force. Then he did so again and again. Soon Atticus stirred and was staring down the eyes of his mark. Furiously he kicked and pushed himself; however, he was stuck securely in place. The ropes about him were tight and thick pressing the fabric of his grey vest into his sweaty skin. Atticus' arms were secure at his sides as the rope kept himself and the metal beam behind him locked together. The Joker just burst into laughter and moved away where he doubled over his face nearly touching the floor. The tails of his familiar purple coat dangled in the air. "Oh Mr. Finch, what a delight you are. You know it's hopeless and still you try." As he finished speaking he stood back up and turned to show that he was now brandishing a butter knife.

Atticus eyed it suspiciously. "Surely, you are not short on cutlery?" He said.

"Oh this, this isn't for cutting." The Joker pressed it into his bare wrist and sawed back and forth vigorously trying to break skin, "If I keep trying I'm sure I'll get it." He said feigning a shortness of breath. "Wait, there we go." He stopped to hold up his wrist to show Atticus the small trickle of blood seeping from the many light scratches. Surprised he remarked, "I guess I could cut you with it, although it would be most unpleasant. But if I shoved this in your mouth," he stepped closer and crouched pointing the knife at Atticus, "and I pressed into your teeth and gums I would guarantee you Mr. Atticus Finch," the words were biting and animalistic, "I could loosen your canines quite nicely." The little knife was inches away when the Joker turned away again, "It does sound like so much fun. After all I wouldn't want to cause any permanent damage." He was talking with his back to Atticus now as he ceremoniously searched for words to say. His steps were flamboyant and gleeful, "What we really need is _non-_fatal discomfort."

Atticus remained silent. He searched his mind for a method of escape. To his right his rifle stood leaning against a utility cabinet. There was no way for him to reach it, let alone get out of the ropes. His heart beat quickly in his chest for he knew the inevitably of this confrontation could only have one outcome. The only comfort was knowing that The Joker would not kill him. Atticus knew that the Jokers clearest weakness was his need to put on a show and Atticus was the audience. "That'll put me off of you for a while, old friend." Atticus said in a gambit.

"Oh nonsense, dear boy, nonsense. It's not the same as losing a limb. It's just a couple of teeth," The Joker said as he imitated the process against his open mouth, "It's pop, pop, and pop, and terrible discomfort, and a mouth full of blood, but you will right back on your feet in no time at all." Before The Joker's plan could be put into action there was a maddening call from a raven as it sped through the open door way and onto the Joker's face.

. Blood seeped from under the talons as they latched down pulling The Jokers skin that sent the office staples scattering about the floor. The bird's beak searched the jokers face as the clown tried to rid himself of the animal. He lost his footing and crashed against the abandoned boiler behind him. As he made to attack the bird with his knife its beak came down in a sharp jabbing motion and an eye was pulled from its socket. With the prize in its beak it released its victim. The Joker kept a palm to his eye and waved his other hand about him believing the bird still in the air overhead.

Atticus sat literally trapped in shock as the bird perched on the utility cabinet where it released the eye to the grey floor below. Fearing it'd come for him next he struggled against the ropes. The birds head cocked and it cawed almost seeming to eye him but then it fluttered down onto the arm of the man who now entered in a long thin pea coat. The Joker's eye was squished under this strangers worn and scuffed combat boot. The man's focus was on the wounded clown.

The man stood in cold silence as The Joker rose to his feet, confused and bleeding between the fingers that covered his empty socket. The man was holding a knife in his left hand just resting at the side of the black coat. The Joker stared at him, and then at the bird and then at Atticus, and then he returned his focus to the man and said to everyone in a humorous tone, "Now who the hell is this guy?" With a blinding ferocity the mysterious figure brought up an antique pistol with his free hand and fired a single shot into the Jokers skull. The malicious clown fell lifeless with a crack against the boring grey floor.

In his trap Atticus sat speechless as he saw the curved knife raised in the man's hand as the stranger rushed to the corpse in front of him. The sounds of flesh being cut could be heard but Atticus was unable to see as the body of the man obscured his vision. Then he stood placing something in an inner coat pocket before turning to Atticus.

"Are you okay?" The man said knife still in hand dripping blood.

"I'm fine." Atticus supposed. He looked at the blood about The Jokers body and at the bloodied mess upon the strangers' hands. The raven was sitting on the strangers' shoulders and cawed and twisted its head again as if whispering into its masters' ear. Then he approached Atticus with the bloodied knife, and proceeded to saw at the ropes. Atticus said nothing else.

"You're lucky," the man commented as he worked.

"Am I?" Atticus wasn't so sure.

The man shook his head and smiled, "You are as far as I'm concerned. If I hadn't shown up that bastard would have left you in an unpleasant state." The ropes loosened enough for Atticus to get his arms out and then the man's hand came down to be greeted, "You can call me Edgar. My companion here," Edgar said gesturing to the greasy bird, "is Eleanor."

Atticus took the hand and responded with his name.

"Atticus is it? Strong name." Edgar said as he pulled him up to his feet.

Atticus let loose of the grip as soon as he was able and stepped over to the utility cabinet to retrieve his rifle. "I needed that man alive," Atticus said as he put the strap of the rifle over his shoulder. He didn't approach the bloodied corpse but from where he stood he could see a gap cut just below The Joker's sternum.

"That wasn't a man," Edgar said gravely, "His heart was the color of the void. The evil within him carried through his voice. We could sense it." He said of him and his pet "Could you not?"

"I've seen his works." Atticus retorted as he made for the door to return upstairs to keep safe Harley Quinn. Edgar walked beside him down the hall and up the stairs to the first floor. Atticus was uneasy for there was something in this man Edgar's demeanor that frightened him more than The Joker ever did.

The raven cawed on Edgar's shoulder and flew ahead to the whimpering coming from Harley's locker. It perched there as Atticus made to open it. "Who is in here?" Edgar asked as Atticus slowly opened the door. At the moment he felt responsible for what happened to Harley, and he did not trust this man with her.

"Where's Mr. J?" Harley asked. The make up on her face was washing off, and the cream of her skin exposed under the tear streaks.

Atticus made to fashion a lie, but Edgar jumped in, "If you are referring to the clown, I ended him. His soul is returned to the underworld." The black bird called out and Harley was speechless. She stared long at Atticus searching his face for confirmation to the stranger's story. Atticus nodded at its truth.

Harley slapped Atticus across the face and made to do so again but Atticus gripped her forearms forcing her back against the locker which slammed the door shut. "Calm yourself." Atticus pressured.

"A harlot who weeps for a devil, is little better than the evil itself." Edgar said standing alongside the scene.

Atticus saw the man's hand resting on the knife handle. "She is none of your concern stranger." Atticus said with his eyes locked on Harley.

"I may have saved your hide Mr. Atticus but do not assume to tell me my place." Edgar stepped forward and the raven called out. "Is this woman a threat?"

Atticus stared long and hard into Harleys eyes trying to convey the imminent danger she was in. Atticus had no intention of dying for her, and if she didn't calm down he feared she'd go the way of the clown. Harley sniffled and looked at Edgar nervously, passing her eyes between the man and the bird. She forced a wounded grin and said, "Who am I without Mr. J?"

Atticus nodded his thanks to her as he relinquished his grip on her arms. "You see Edgar she's not a threat. I'll take care she stays out of your way."

Harley looked at the pair defiantly, "Lead the way Mr. Finch. Aint a soul in this damned town anyhow." Her voice was devoid of theatricality and she followed closely behind dragging her feet on the black and white tiles. They exited back out the doorway Atticus had entered earlier, down on the ground he noted Harley's blood trail. They did not follow it but instead turned in the opposite direction.

Atticus was keeping close to Harley's left arm as he was still afraid she'd try something foolish. His focus was torn however, between her and Edgar. It wasn't just the ravenous raven on the man's shoulder but the grizzled demeanor him. Within Edgar's eyes Atticus saw scars, and hellfire. Whatever happened to the man had forever made an impression, that much was clear.

"Where are you taking us?"

Edgar stopped and turned around and before speaking he lifted his arm up and let loose his bird, "Someplace safe. There are many who will descend on the city in the twilight, bandits and thieves. Blood thirsty rats, each and every one of them." Edgar looked back the way he was leading and then returned his gaze to Atticus, "Are you sure this female would not be more comfortable with the nocturnal specimens. They rarely hurt their own."

"He may have a point Mr. Finch." Harley admitted. "Surely you don't need me slowing you down. Besides your new friend doesn't seem to like me much."

"Your leg." Atticus reminded her.

Harley made her lips pouty, "I've been nicked worse than this sweetie." She placed her palm at Atticus' cheek, and for a moment Atticus was reminded of his wife. He found himself closing his eyes to see her, but he caught himself, and proceeded to remove her hand. "Listen, Mr. Finch your friend seems lonesome."

Atticus looked at Harley and then at Edgar. With The Joker gone he really had no reason to keep Harley. Edgar seemed intent on driving her off and Atticus was growing curious about the man. Despite feeling a complete unease about him, but perhaps figured Atticus, that was why he wanted to learn more about him. "Go. Get out of here." He instructed and without another word she limped off the way they had come. "Will she be alright?" Atticus said to Edgar as Harley trailed away.

"She's got spirit. A twisted spirit, but she'll be fine, yes." Edgar spoke as he began walking off. Atticus turned and followed.

They stepped out into the vacant streets where many automobiles sat immobile in the center of the road. Some of them were on blocks, their tires stripped from them. Windows smashed rusted frames, and all of them in various states of decay. Under foot shattered glass cracked against the pavement.

Atticus had been in the city for a couple hours tracking The Joker and from the outset something had bothered him about the place, "What happened to everyone?"

"A month ago I was passing through a town to the west called Posterity. There was a commotion in the streets. Apparently a girl had wandered in from the wasteland. She was covered in blood and babbling mostly nonsense. From what the people had said, she kept repeating one thing. Someone knew her there. Said she was from this town called Divinity, which is where we are. So I came here searching for her family. No one else would. The bandits had been ravishing the wastelands and communication had been cut off. When I got here one thing stuck out. There was a name on every wall. On posters, in the café's in the shops, even in the schools." Edgar lifted up a torn piece of paper from under the debris and handed it back behind him. Atticus stepped forward and retrieved it.

On the paper was a towering skyscraper. A silver sliver extending skyward, modern and sharp. At the widening base of the building a crowd stood hand in hand, and below their feet in big bold letters it read: _Snow Industries: A Stepping Stone to the Future _"What does this have to do with anything?"

"The word she kept saying. It was snow." Edgar answered as he retrieved the paper from Atticus' hands, only to let it slide out of his fingers to the ground below. As they continued walking Atticus saw why Edgar had been so cavalier in dropping it. The entirety of one wall was plastered with the same exact image. He tried to search his memories for any mention of such a company but couldn't recall it. "My employers might know something of this." Atticus offered.

"Perhaps." Was all Edgar said as they entered into another alley way.

Atticus didn't particularly appreciate Edgar's quizzical personality. It wasn't only that but The Joker was supposed to be brought back alive. If he was injured or terribly maimed it was no loss, but death was not part of the contract. One of the largest payouts The Faction was ever commissioned for. Money to pave the way for a secure future for his young children that he left at home in the caretakers capable hands while he went and played hero.

"I lost quite a sum when you killed the clown."

"You mean money?" Edgar questioned over his shoulder.

"Yes I mean money." Atticus said a tad more furious than he had planned.

Edgar didn't say anything else at that moment, but turned out onto another street full of townhouses, and went down passed only two doors before he climbed some stairs. He paused a moment as his raven came back to perch on his arm. Then he entered into the large baby blue house with boarded windows. "If you are inclined to help me, I may be able to offer you a _sum_." Atticus could tell Edgar was spitting back sarcasm.

"I have responsibilities. I don't go around doing this for my own benefit." Atticus entered and Edgar closed the door behind him. The living room of the house was dark with small bars of light breaking through holes in the boards on the windows. Dust danced in the air descending in slow motions about them, some of it seemed to stand in suspended animation. There was mildew smell coming out of a nearby room.

"You are a mercenary then?" Edgar asked as he put Eleanor in a cage that dangled from the ceiling in the corner. Accompanying the word mercenary was a disgusted tone that Atticus picked up on.

"It's something like that. Have you heard of The Faction out here?" Atticus unslung his rifle and rested it against the wall and took a seat in an old recliner.

"The Faction?" Edgar said striking a match and bringing its small flame to the wick of a candle, "Of course I've heard of The Faction. A bunch of wealthy corrupt bastards playing at policing the world."

"Someone has to speak for justice." Atticus defended.

"Leaving a path of violence and carnage, is that what you call justice? And what of collateral damage? Some of your peers have no trouble with causing it. Are you one of those people?" He said as he moved to the other side of the room and struck another match to light another candle.

"Sometimes it can't be helped. But I take care as best I can to avoid such things."

Edgar moved to a chair across from Atticus. He sat letting out a long sigh of relaxation. "I normally wouldn't take your word for it, but I sense something better about you. A sense of conviction in your words."

"Snow industries?" He changed the subject as he spotted a litter of the posters upon the shagged carpet. It was always the same image, but with the background altered to different colors.

"I'm not a people person." Edgar said cryptically then pointed at Atticus, "You on the other hand seem to be one." As if suffering from an attention disorder the grim looking man stood up quickly from his sitting position and exited the living room to what looked like the kitchen – all Atticus could see was a pair of sinks stocked to the brim with filthy dishes. The sound of cupboards opening and closing came from this room, and Edgar spoke again, "I've seen many evil things in this world my friend. Things that send people screaming from their homes, but not a whole town. A whole city. You would be surprised the things people save before they retreat. Photographs, strange toys, a collection of stamps or even jewels. Not here however, they forgot too. Or they had no time too." Edgar reemerged from the kitchen with a jar held in his hands, but his fingers obscured what it contained.

Atticus stood up now growing intrigued by Edgar's ranting. The man had a point, whatever had made the city evacuate must have been catastrophic. "Why do you suspect this Snow Industries would have anything to do with that?"

"I'm a collector Mr. Finch. Most of these collections occur within my mind, they are composed strictly my memories. Other times I collect the memories of others. Over on the desk by the fireplace." As Edgar spoke Atticus cast his eyes to what he described, it was full of books. The candle flames flickered; dancing light upon the leather bound surfaces. Some had simple locks that were broken apart. There were those with hearts, purple with white polka dots.

"These are diaries. Journals." Atticus remarked.

"They are." Edgar walked over to him, the jar no longer in his hands. "I've read many of them. Such sad lives for most, but some found hope, and optimism in their bleak surroundings. Strong souls. Now missing."

"And they make mention of this Snow Industries?"

"Yes. Every one of them that I've read so far. There are some, day laborers, husbands who spoke of the prospects of going to work for them. Nearly a years' worth of work, leaving behind family to travel to some factory in the middle of the wasteland." Edgar lifted up a red leathered one and handed it to Atticus who flipped open the first page and read the entry.

_August 19__th__, _

_ Not sure why I decided to keep a diary now. I use to have one when I was ten but I'm nearly eighteen. Feels good to have a place to hide my thoughts. Gale asked me to dinner with him tonight….._

It went on a ways like that. Feeling slightly ashamed of peering into some ones private matters, Atticus flipped ahead trying to catch sight of the word Snow. After flipping through an extensive amount, he finally spotted it.

_December 2__nd__,_

_ Well I got the job. I really wasn't sure if my name would be picked in the lottery or not. Sure they say you get to place a new entry in every year, but what are the odds? It's my second year. It'll feel good to finally send Momma and my sister some money back. This town has seen such hard times. Bandit raids have increased. It's barely safe to be on the outskirts of town even during the day now. It used to be just at night. A lot of people are moving. Snow Industries, they say it's the best work you can do for the best pay. They say they are real generous. Half the city is working for them now, money is pouring in nice and good like. Soon we'll be able to gather some proper protection._

_ December 23__rd__,_

_ Feels strange leaving so late in the year but that's when the shuttle arrived. It's been parked at the bus depot all day. Their representative came to my house today. He was handsome maybe a few years older than I am. To think being that young and having such high power at one of the biggest industries in the world. Maybe I'll actually get to know him when we get there. Or even on the trip. I hear it's a few hours north. Well, this will probably be my last entry. Don't worry I'll write all about my experiences when I get home._

_ Love, K.E._

"Half the town went there?" Atticus said as he shut the book, "What kind of corporation employ's half a city?"

"A big one." Edgar grimly joked. He walked over to Atticus and retrieved the diary from his hands and tossed it back on the table. "K.E. are the initials of the girl, in Posterity."

Atticus began searching his mind for his next course of action. He paced to where Edgar had been standing with his jar. It was a shadowed corner of the room, but as he neared he paused only for a moment startled at what he saw on the shelf. Against his better judgment he stepped in closer still.

"Hearts tell many tales Mr. Finch. Black hearts, mutated hearts, these are the hearts of demons I've sent to the other side." Edgar was standing side by side with Atticus. "Do you like your work?"

Upon the shelf were twelve jars filled with a clear liquid, and within the center were hearts that floated still intact. Distracted from Edgar's question he asked, "This is what you do to them all?"

"Not all of them." Edgar pointed to one jar with a small fresh red heart. The blood was like a fog in the jar floating about the liquid. "This is your dearly departed friend."

Upon the jar was a label that read, _Clown. _Another heart was barely contained within the jar, the glass cracked almost to the point of shattering. It was black and coated in a thick green sludge, and on the label it read, _Bane._

"You think this Snow Industries deserves a place on your shelf?" Atticus asked as he read another label, _Gargamel. _The heart appeared to have been in a hundred tinier pieces that were now sewed back together.

"I don't know anything yet Mr. Finch, but it warrants looking into." Edgar stepped away from his heart collection and sat back down in his chair. "If its money you want, I can't guarantee it. But I'm sure there's someone out there who would pay handsomely to know what in the hell is going on."

"This isn't my place." Atticus said turning back to his own chair and he sat down. "What business do I have with Snow? Perhaps they had nothing to do with it, perhaps it was bandits."

"There are no bandits capable of disappearing an entire town. Not one of this size." Edgar looked about the room and gestured with his hands to everything, "If there ever was a time for The Faction to intervene its here."

"I can't."

"You saw the school Atticus. All those young minds keen to learn. Did you not see the drawings on the walls, the rainbows, the families? Won't you help them?"

The image of his daughter and son flashed within his head, and Atticus began to allow his thoughts to fathom the horrible fates that could have befallen children like them. He couldn't turn his back on the possibility of innocence being snuffed out for some diabolical reason. Atticus rubbed the knuckles on his left hand and thought for only a moment before he said, "I'll accompany you to the next town, but no further. If this does not lead anywhere I'm gone."


	2. Chapter 2

Episode Two

The fire before Atticus crackled and smoldered as it dwindled down to nothing. His eyes stared down as the glowing red embers struggled to survive amongst the black soot. The rifle was propped against a stone at his side and he rested his arms over his knees hunched forward just staring as the simple wind teased life against the camp fire. The cold air that slowly slid across the hairs on the back of his neck in complete opposition to the sweat that poured out of them in the daylight. It was the fifth night he spent camped out in the wasteland with Edgar; who slept soundly seeming to have no problem enduring the temporal shifts of their day to day. This could not be said of Atticus, who had spent little time in the wasteland, at least for some years. It was around his sixth year that he was uprooted by his father and mother in the wake of a long passed tragedy. It was not an easy time, and the memories made him uneasy now. With his right foot he half-heartedly pressed dirt over the last remaining glows before lying back against the rocky earth. No sleep found him that night, and he stared deep in thought at the stars above him.

When the sun finally began to creep on the horizon the raven known as Eleanor began to caw relentlessly. This she did every morning, and the volume increased drastically as she continued on. Edgar swung his hand at the animal, which caused it to lift in a brief flutter before resting on its master's chest. It was the same routine that Atticus had witnessed every morning, and like every morning Edgar stroked the greasy feathers downwards as if touching the locks of his lover's hair. Soon Edgar would rise and the bird would take to the sky flying off into the distance that they would soon be walking, and the man would reach over to his side to retrieve his pea coat and slide both arms in simultaneously. The tail of the coat was caught up in the earth below and as he rose to his feet it dropped fragments of rock, and deposits of dirt to join the rest that existed underfoot.

"Another sleepless night Mr. Finch?" Edgar asked as he brushed himself off with his equally filthy hands.

Atticus was already on his feet by this point and was once again throwing the rifle strap over his shoulder. He straightened and tightened the tie that dangled underneath his familiar grey vest and he nodded to the man who was waiting for him.

"Rest keeps your mind clear and your wits sharp." Edgar patronized as they began walking.

Atticus' eyes looked about him in a worried haste, "I've never been comfortable in the boundary towns."

"What are they a boundary of?" Edgar asked.

Atticus gestured to the great nothingness at their right side, "Whatever's out there."

"Same as what's here. Wouldn't you say?" Edgar kept his pace simplistic and slowed. The man had the full intent to reach his destination, but not with any urgency. Atticus was curious as why that was, but he didn't question it. With even this early sunlight Atticus was thankful not to be forced into a rush. He could feel the rays against his already burnt and brown skin.

"Maybe it is the same," Atticus reasoned, "I don't know. But it's not safe."

"But what is safe?" Edgar dabbed a handkerchief against his forehead which was then coated in fresh new dirt and sweat. It was strange that the mysterious figure implored the desert in a long dark coat that only covered long shirt sleeves, which Atticus figured would only add to the heat.

Atticus searched his head only for a moment and answered, "Maycomb."

"What about it?"

Atticus said again, "Maycomb is safe."

"For now Mr. Finch. I doubt even Maycomb can remain untouched by the darkness that creeps over this land." Edgar tucked his cloth away in a pocket and quickened his pace.

Atticus knew what Edgar said was true but for now Maycomb _was_ unharmed. Nestled in the mountains on the other side of whatever this waste was. It was a Garden of Eden under the careful watch of The Faction's wealth and power. It had to be safe, because it was what he told his infant son Jem, and the promise he had made to his wife. He knew he was only speaking half-truths but it was a lie he was going to force himself to believe in. It was what his work for The Faction was all about: Keeping his family safe. He moved faster to catch up with Edgar.

At the edge of a cliff Edgar stood with one foot half over and the other a foot behind him while he knelt down. As Atticus approached Edgar said, "There it is. Posterity." Atticus saw the city nestled at the bottom of the cliff and all around it the rocks hugged it tightly like a horseshoe and at the opened end a large steel wall was erected. "It's probably the safest place in this great vast desert of nothing. Though I use the word safe lightly." Edgar turned his back to the cliff edge and proceeded to lay flat on his stomach.

Atticus made to step forward to follow Edgar's lead even though he had difficulty understanding the risk in climbing down. Thankfully Edgar stopped him, "There's no need for that. You take the route around."

"Why?"

"My face is well known, it's much safer if I take an alternate route."

"When you say well known you mean?" Atticus pressed.

"Not liked. I may or may not have caused some, commotion, when last I was here. If you really must know can we not discuss it when we are both well inside." Edgar said his body dangling over the edge.

Atticus shook his head and started to walk on to the left side of the cliff, following the curve of it as it descended. After he had gone on a way he looked over his shoulder and was surprised to find that Edgar was already more than half of the way down. Above him he saw the circling raven, and he imagined its annoying cries echoing against the cliff face, and he was glad to be rid of it for a moment.

Once Atticus proved what a wild goose chase this had been he would be able to get back home. He would be able to report his failings to The Faction and he may be rewarded a simple sum for taking care of The Joker, but nothing compared to the payout he was supposed to receive. He could have already been halfway there by now. He halted himself, and looked back at Edgar who was now nearing the bottom. His eyes cast to the way he had come, and then he spun his body about and looked in every direction. To one side was the city, and to all others nothing. At this moment he had an opportunity to abandon this stranger, this amoral murderer and collector of hearts. He could be rid of this perverse vigilante here and now. It would be the best thing to do, he figured, men like Edgar only caused trouble. They often hindered as much as they thought they helped. The Faction of course had its fair share of shortcomings, but men like Edgar were so single sighted that they had no qualms in achieving their victories by any means possible, it was the same thing Edgar had claimed The Faction of doing.

Atticus shook the thoughts from his head, and began walking forward again. His mind returned to the city, to the diary of the girl with the initials K.E. His hand came to his vest and he placed a palm over the tough place that he had hidden it. Every night against the fire light he read it. He read of her hopes and dreams, he read of her struggles, and her heartaches. She was a strong young woman whoever she was, a young woman who unselfishly took care of her sister and mother. All those words in reference to them, and her last entry ending on a promise. Then there were empty streets, forgotten heirlooms. He just couldn't turn his back on everything after bearing witness to the aftermath. Edgar may have had this Snow Industries wrong as a culprit, but something had happened in the town of Divinity.

At the end of the curving downward slope of the cliff the wall sprang up and blocked out the entire west from seeing inside. He tightened the strap over his shoulder and placed a hand upon the steel wall. He ran his finger down the riveted surfaces, and tilting his head up to wonder at its towering presence.

As the wall rounded about a man dressed in a light body armor seemed to materialize around the edge. There was a scarf draped over his face and a sawed off shotgun aimed before him at Atticus. Atticus stopped.

"Who is he?" The man said.

"A traveler." Atticus responded.

"And so he may be, but why is he travelin' here?" The man was now stopped about six feet from Atticus, the barrel of the shotgun tilted upwards slightly giving a prime shot that would remove Atticus' head from his shoulders. The eyes of the man gestured at the rifle.

Atticus let the weapon off his shoulder and it collapsed against the earth in a spout of dust. "I'm with The Faction."

"And how can we know this? This could be lies told by he." The man stepped forward and motioned for Atticus to step back until he could place his boot securely atop Atticus' rifle. "His Faction has no place for we here."

"I am passing to another city. I only need shelter for a day or so." Atticus said.

"Does he tell lies?" The man asked.

"He doesn't." Atticus thought for a moment and shook his head, "I don't." He corrected.

The man leaned down and picked up Atticus' rifle and held it by the strap always keeping the barrel of the shotgun on him. "He steps before me, and I show him the door. And I am keeping his rifle till he leaves Posterity." The man stared down Atticus who nodded in agreement and walked forward. The man was standing close to Atticus and the barrel occasionally pressed coldly against the small of his back. "Does he have any other toys for us to keep for him?"

"None." Atticus stated, omitting the fact that he had a combat knife secured between his sock and boot.

"Faction men have no authority against us here. He lie to I, and I marches him a hundred paces and get him dead. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

Soon they arrived at a door. It was only a small door about seven feet high with a simple rounded handle. On either side were small windows that were blocked from within by sheet metal. The shrouded man pounded his fist against the door four times and within a second the windows were opened, the sheet metal dropping down to reveal a man in each at the trigger of a machine gun poised at Atticus. A slit in the door at Atticus' eye level slid open and two yellow cat eyes glared out surrounded by tiger fur. The voice was gravel, "Who is he?"

"Traveler." The shrouded man said in what Atticus thought sounded like nervousness.

"Is he right, are you a traveler?" The cat man growled at Atticus.

"I am."

"And what travels brings you here?" The eyes demanded

"I'm passing by on my out of the wasteland. This is the first town I've happened upon for days." Atticus brushed some of the dust off of him, and felt slightly uneasy as he felt the cold steel through the fabric of his clothes. Then the windows were pulled shut and soon after the slit closed and the door opened.

"If you are here in search of rest, allow me to introduce myself. I am Major Kahn." The tiger man was full of boastfulness as he held out his paw to be shaken. Soon Atticus found his hand enveloped in its sheer size. The tiger gripped tightly causing the fingers on the man to crack slightly before being released. "Please come in stranger. Posterity is a welcome place to the tired traveler." He turned around and led him inside a narrow corridor which lasted for about twenty feet before emerging back into the open air. The tiger stepped into daylight and crossed his arms, and as Atticus stepped out the cat glared down at him.

In the full sunlight Atticus could see the clean and pressed uniform. The stripes and stars upon his shoulders were polished, and well maintained. The fur burst out of his sleeves, and the clothes had trouble containing the beast and in truth seemed fitted to a smaller person. "You are welcome to Posterity for your rest and rejuvenation, and that should be all. We don't take kindly to outsiders within these walls."

"Understood Mister Kahn." Atticus said but soon regretted as the enormous tiger man displayed a noticeable look of irritability upon the word _mister_.

Kahn bent down so that his eyes were lined up with Atticus'. In this position, Atticus thought, Kahn could easily swallow his head in a single bite. "It is_ Major_ Kahn to you stranger." Hot breath passed over razor sharp rotted teeth and a slimy orange tongue as Atticus held the tigers eye line, admitting to himself that he was afraid in that moment. The yellow eyes peered into him, as if already knowing all his motives.

The scarfed man from before pushed out from the open doorway behind Atticus and turned to the pair, who still stared harshly at one another. "The Faction is his master." The man said in worried urgency, "Thought he would want to know that of him Major Kahn sir." There was a nervous tone again in the man's voice that complimented the shaking gun in his trembling hands.

Kahn turned to him and growled exposing the teeth on his right side, "Thank you, Scout Master, now return to your post." The great tigers orange fur bristled, the black tiger stripes rising and falling in the dry desert wind. He stood up and held a whisker between his fingers. The scout master did not move, and Kahn puffed a sharp air from his snout which caused the man to jump and to rush back down the hall.

"Is this true? You are in the employ of The Faction?" Kahn reached the end of his whisker and folded his arms over his chest again; "In that case," he stepped closer to Atticus and threw an arm over his shoulder, "Allow me to escort you personally to our best accommodations." He pressed Atticus forward to the mass of buildings in front of them.

On the right a tiger with a distinct red bandana around his neck pushed a broom against the welcome mat but above him the wind knocked over a lump of sand to the once cleaned place at his feet, the tiger exasperated threw his arms about himself, and mumbled, "Great." And once again continued sweeping.

On the left a shop owner sat beneath a torn awning selling what looked like beetles and spiders that clamored over each other in glass jars searching for a way to escape their cramped quarters. "Obviously this is our market area. Caravans come every now and again, but they are scarce. Our most precious resource, of course is our water. Have you noticed the network of pipes above us?" Major Kahn raised his hand upward.

Atticus was keenly aware of the system of pipes that seemed to go in every direction and every which way. They were a maze of metals. At many of the joints water leaked slowly, and in those spots where the drops ended small patches of grass rose up.

"With a water source so limitless our agriculture thrives. Aside from the occasional bandit raids which I deal with personally, we are safe and self-sustainable here Mr. Finch." The tiger slapped his paw against Atticus shoulder a little too harshly which caused Atticus to flinch. He turned him down another road, and stopped. "There she is." Before Atticus a towering building stood slightly out of place to the rest of the shanty like homes. "Tenpenny Tower is a step above many places you are likely to find in a wasteland. You see once upon a time this town was not a town, but a resort for the rich and the powerful. This was all there was, surrounded by beautiful gardens, and fountains. Then the bandits came, and well, you can guess the rest."

They walked to the building, which held an unused fountain at its base, completely devoid of water. "Soon nomadic people found it, and Posterity was born," Kahn finished.

"This is where you'll have me stay?" Atticus asked uncomfortable with the Tigers false gentility. He knew the man despised him but for some reason The Faction was causing the tiger to be on his best behavior. The quick change in Kahn's demeanor meant that The Faction sticking its nose in was not welcomed or encouraged. He wanted him quick in and quick out. Atticus had been on enough jobs to know the routine.

"Yes. You will stay here free of charge. It isn't often that The Faction graces us with its presence. Perhaps later we can discuss what business it is that you have here. I mean, one lawman to another." Kahn was now standing next to the door that entered into Tenpenny Tower trying as he may to hold a welcomed grin upon his face, but the over bite of teeth wasn't helping.

"It would be appreciated _Mister_ Kahn." Atticus purposely misspoke as he watched the Tiger hold back his frustration.

"Ask for me at the front desk, they can get ahold of me at the guard house or in my quarters." Major Kahn opened the door and kept his enormous tiger paw held flat against it until Atticus entered inside. Atticus said nothing to him, and when he was well enough away the door slammed shut.

Inside the lobby of Tenpenny Tower the air was thick and filled with the abysmal smell of cigarettes. The tobacco hitting Atticus' nostrils made him crave for his pipe but it was no longer on his person. He had left it sitting in his study at home, attempting to rid himself of the filthy habit once in for all so that when he returned he would feel no need to pack and light it. Here however, he wished he had it more than ever. His nerves were getting screw. Edgar was on to something here, and Atticus himself had willfully stepped foot into a hostile environment. Major Kahn had not settled in Atticus' stomach properly, their introduction was underlined with unspoken threats. Here he was in the middle of this place, without his familiar weapon, and only a blade in his sock.

"Excuse me sir," spoke a girls voice from behind him, and when he turned there was a child no older than eleven dressed in a yellow sun dress and a violet ribbon in her hair, "I can show you to your room if you'd like."

Atticus nodded to her, and she gestured him to turn around and she walked before him. The lobby was a high ceilinged room with red and white tiles upon the floor. There were long dead yellowed plants bordering the center of the room separated by brief stair cases, and a row of red leathered chairs. The lights hanging from heavy chandeliers ebbed and flowed light as if the power was fluctuating its levels of emission. The little girl began humming a tune, and walked them straight passed the lobby to some large grey doors spaced out from one another in equal length separated by more dying plants. Beside the door a white button with a black arrow pointed up, and the girl pushed it with her thumb.

"Major Kahn said the room was complimentary." Atticus said to her.

She turned her head to him and smiled a big child's smile and politely informed him, "All rooms are complimentary here mister." There was a pinging sound before the doors slid open one half to the right, the other half the other way. They stepped inside. Atticus should have figured as much, it didn't appear many people were keen on visiting Posterity. The doors shut and the floor shook a moment, and the sound of whirling devices were heard overhead as it began to move. The girl pressed her thumb to another button, the number was nine. It appeared the floors had gone up to twelve. "Hope floor nine will serve you okay, mister."

"Nine will be fine. But why not twelve?" Atticus questioned hiding it in a friendly joke.

The little girl looked at him again with the same grin, "Twelve is for Posterities guardsmen, and the other upper floors are for business owners, and well, you know, the more richer sort of folk."

"And what sort are you?" Atticus joked with her.

"Well I'm showing you to your room, so what does that tell you?" She grinned big before turning her head back to the doors as the pinging sound was heard and they slid open once again. She directed them to the right down the hallway, and down another right. She stopped. "This is it. Room Nine-One-Two." She put her finger just under the sign next to the door that read, _912. _The girl turned to Atticus and held out an open palm.

Atticus searched his pockets for some change, and then produced a coin. He put it in her hand, and she squeezed it tight and smiled one more time before dashing off. The sound of the elevator could be heard around the corner. Atticus was left without a key, but to his surprise the door opened when he turned the handle.

Edgar's voice was heard down the hall. "It's a town of refugee's, made up of its own laws." He stepped out from the shadows down the hall where a light was not present. "She always brings the new people to this floor, but there are not often new people. Faces in the street remain the same. I've been here on several occasions." Edgar walked to the door and pushed it open strolling casually passed Atticus who followed in after. "I assume you have met Shere Kahn? The Major?"

"I have."

Edgar collapsed on the bed face first. He spoke out of the side of his mouth, "That bastard tiger is the reason I had to take the hard way in. Did he give you much trouble?"

"At first. But at the mention of The Faction he went as fragile as a kitten."

"Pun intended?" Edgar said.

Atticus shook his head and dismissed his accidental joke. "They definitely don't want any outside influences here. That hardly means that it has anything to do with your theories."

Edgar flipped over onto his back holding his stomach with the palms of his hand, "They are hardly just theories. The company has an office near the city square."

"Snow Industries is here?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes it is." Edgar rubbed his nose and let out a brief sniffle. "However the building is little more than a linen closet. It's probably the size of this room. Hardly a place to take an entire metropolis of people."

"Did you speak to any one?"

"If there were any one to speak to I would have, but there are no longer representatives there." Edgar was silent after that for several minutes, which gave Atticus a moment to rest his body as well, but when those few minutes were up Edgar was back on his feet. His raven was not present with them as the mysterious man stepped out of the room, and Atticus reluctantly chased after him.

Edgar had led the pair through various side streets. Many of the buildings were single floored homes unsafely stacked atop one another. There were some that rested at strange angles, while others looked fresh and new. Some had wooden walls, some sheet metal. Then they emerged in a small square. The ground was uneven cobblestone, and there was another fountain similar to the one in front of Tenpenny Tower, but unlike that one this one was pulsing with water, that some human and cat like kids were cupping their hands into now to drink from. On the other side of it, directly in front of the pairs sight line was a larger building with a broken neon sign that read: _The Rust Bucket. _

Inside the establishment was another cloud of tobacco smoke. The lights within were dimmer than the lights at the tower. There was a cackle of laughter from every corner. That was until each and every person began to catch sight of Atticus and Edgar entering. Then slowly the laughter was no more, and uneasy gazes were locked on the two men. A large man approached them and stood directly in Edgar's way, "Get the hell out of my bar."

Edgar stepped back without protest. The fat man looked at Atticus, and then gestured to Edgar, "That man a friend of yours?"

"An acquaintance more than anything. He was just showing me the way."

"Seeing as how I don't know you none, I'll give ya the benefit of the doubt." He pointed at Edgar, "But that sum'bitch is not to set foot in here again. He sent one of my boys to the infirmary a couple months back."

Atticus annoyingly looked back at Edgar, and said to the bar owner, "Now why would he go and do something like that."

Edgar shrugged and turned around, leaving the bar as quickly as he entered.

"Now that that's settled, what are you drinking?" The bar owner went behind the bar and produced a glass that was smothered in finger prints.

Atticus shook his head, "I'm not here for the drinks."

"If its company you want, I know a few girls who might offer you some assistance." He grinned devilishly at Atticus and poured an unknown substance into the dirty glass.

"I'm looking for information." When Atticus said this the Fat Man stopped pouring the drink. He lifted up to his mouth and downed it quickly, and poured another one almost instantly.

The man leaned forward his palms flat on the bar, "What sorta information are you looking for stranger?"

"There's a girl who wandered in from the desert a month or so back. I was hoping I might talk to her."

"Was ya?"

"I was. I was led to believe someone here might know something about where she's gone off to." Atticus watched the man down the second drink a small drop sliding passed his lip to his chin and down onto the bar. The glass came down hard upon the bar, and the man smirked and shook his head.

"Lots of people come and go. Lots of places a person can go off to."

Atticus leaned forward slightly and cocked his head knowingly to the side, "Yes, but I think you already know the girl I mean." There was a long pause as the fat man's eye twitched, then more silence as he returned the bottle of booze below him to a compartment and placed the glass atop the supposedly clean ones. No words were exchanged as the bartender began wiping down the counter, and nothing else was muttered as he moved along to fill other patrons' glasses.

As Atticus looked about the bar he noticed all of them were doing their best not to stare in his direction as if eye contact would spoil their time. First the tiger's shift in personality and now a bar full of knowing faces. Whatever the secret was they were hiding, it was publically known. Atticus slammed his palm against the bar, "Bartender!" The fat man looked over in his direction mostly with peripheral vision, "Drink." Atticus requested.

When the man approached Atticus spoke again, "I've had a change of heart."

The cloth in the man's hand made pointless circles on the bar. "What are you having?"

"Water."

The man cocked his head to the right and let drop a wad of spit, "There's a perfectly good fountain outside. Why don't you go and join the urchins in the square?"

"Suppose I tell my employers that the good people of Posterity are collectively taking part in a conspiracy." Atticus kept his eyes locked on the fat man whose eyes shifted nervously briefly turning to his patrons for assistance. He wasn't however without brutishness. The man leaned forward laying his elbows against the counter top.

"Suppose you do stranger?"

"Water." The bartender stood back up and grabbed the glass he had before, "No, no, I think I'll take a different glass." Atticus insisted. The chubby fingers removed another glass and brought up a pitcher of water and poured it inside till it was overflowing from the top, then he stopped. Atticus retrieved the glass and said, "Much obliged." He stood up and turned to look at the various patrons. As if reminded of his time below the wastelands scorching sun, he brought the glass to his lips and savored every last drop of the water. His eyes remained open watching the eyes of the people that watched him.

In one corner a man in lab coat with a reptiles green and rough skin looked back over his shoulder, instead of the playing cards in his hand, and before him a woman with long flowing locks of red did the same. At the other end of the room some more cat faces tried to hide their eyes in their mugs, but Atticus kept his gaze about all of them. Word traveled quickly and no one made to inquire just who he worked for, for there was no need.

"I'm looking for a girl." Atticus spoke over the stifled silence. He reached into his vest and produced K.E.'s journal. "I have it on good authority that she was here. In your beautiful town of Posterity." He placed the glass down behind him and opened the pages of the journal. He took a moment to adjust himself comfortably on the bar stool and then began reading, "Mother's become ill. I sure hope that the lottery goes in my favor this year. While she's not dying, she can hardly keep up with my sisters distresses any longer. I'm scared for both of them, and what they will do without me, but this is the best thing for it. If I can just get enough to keep them comfortable then I can get out of this town. I can start a new life, have a better life. Maybe even take momma and my sister with me at some point, but there's got to be more than this. Love, K.E." He slammed the book shut and held it over his head. "I have it on good authority she _was_ here."

"I think you should leave friend." The bartender said behind Atticus. The sound of a shotgun shell being readied caused Atticus to slowly bring the journal down.

He spoke from the side to the man he couldn't see behind him, "And so I will." He took his time tucking the journal into his vest, and proceeded to straighten his tie at the same speed before turning and strolling to the exit.

"That was quick." Edgar said. He stood his arms dangling loosely at his side and back against the wall of The Rust Bucket. He didn't move and tilted his eyes up to the cloudy skies, an unwelcomed yellow sun bared down on them.

"I've been here less than two hours and already there's not a soul that doesn't know who I work for." Atticus kicked up a tuft of dirt and began pacing.

"You're starting to believe me then Mr. Finch?"

"No, something's amiss here, I will give you that, but that doesn't mean it has anything to do with what happened in Divinity. Or a thing to do with Snow Industries." In his soul Atticus was growing curious. There was a drive here to discover more, and knowing no one wanted him to, excited him. "Show me the Snow offices."

Edgar said no words as he removed himself from his place by The Rust Bucket and he led them out of the square the way they had come. Children were no longer by the fountain, in fact no one seemed to be out doors. It was as if the entire town was afraid to be seen within inches of Atticus. They were scared, but for what reason? The Major was a large powerful feline, but he was only one man. Atticus hardly believed that the other guards were capable of striking fear into every person here.

"Here it is." Edgar said randomly stopping mere feet out of the square.

On the left was a small building that was little more than an outhouse. On the wall under a lone window was the familiar title of Snow Industries in fading letters. There was no longer a door, and loose hinges hung on the frame as a sole reminder that a door had existed. Atticus stepped inside.

The room had been occupied recently. The dust had barely collected and it still smelled of the ammonia from cleaning products. There was a large metal desk up to the edge of the door frame, and an empty filing cabinet in the back right corner, both bolted to the floor. Atticus opened the drawers on the other side of the desk. He knew he was not likely to find any worthy clues but nonetheless he searched. Everything had been emptied.

"There was a man here when last I was here." Edgar said standing in the door way, the suns' rays framing him in silhouette. "I would see him looking at me with beady little eyes when I walked by. There was something off about him. But, I had yet to know that Snow Industries was a player in this plot until I arrived in Divinity, so unfortunately I had not spoken with him." He took a couple steps inside, "Convinced yet?"

Atticus slammed a drawer and simply said, "Not quite."

There was a large shadow blocking the door way now. The room would have been in total darkness if not for the shattered window. The person made no sound, and Edgar made a fist over his knife ready to turn and strike if he needed. His eyes met Atticus' and Atticus shook his head.

"I apologize for the behavior earlier," said the fat man. He stepped in more as Edgar walked over to the wall beside Atticus, "If they saw me with you." The man paused for a moment as if afraid of the possibilities in his head, "I don't know what they'd do. But that girl you asked about. I think I know where you can find her."


	3. Chapter 3

Episode Three

The medical clinic was along the eastern edge of the city where large steel shipping containers rested snug against the cliff face. The large doors had been removed to make way for patient housing. Above this area a large net served as a canopy, and atop that laced amongst the netting were barbed wires poking out of every facet. It was one of the only spots within Posterity that was secured on all sides. This was where the bartender had told them to come, after some long pauses, and nervous drags on a few shaking cigarettes. There wasn't much information to go on, but what was deduced by Atticus was this: the Major had no idea that the townspeople had hidden the girl, and this was the reason for the community silence.

Atticus rapped his knuckles against the wooden door that was jimmied to a couple pieces of plywood that had been hammered into the earth. Countless amounts of barbed wire were wrapped about these and they created the walled perimeter. The door opened and a grizzled lanky man stood on the other side as if prepared for their visit. He was leaning slightly to secure the support of his cane and when he stepped toward the pair his limp was prominent. "I'll have you know that I have my own private security within the confines of these walls. My hospital is a neutral zone, so if you do anything to upset that neutrality I will not hesitate in having my men dispose of you in the most uniquely painful ways they can deduce to." His voice was cocky and defiant, and Atticus was amused by the man's tall demeanor despite whatever injury had befallen him.

"There will be no need for anything of the sort." Atticus said extending his hand, in this man he appreciated the bluntness, it was a trait that many people did not care to use, and he himself had yet to find on a good well intentioned person, as he deduced this man was.

The doctor shook it, and said, "I assume you are here about our guest?"

Edgar kept his distance a few feet behind Atticus, and to Atticus' surprise he kept his mouth shut. The doctor's eyes cast in the morose mans' direction, and Atticus only assumed that there was more bad blood. There were of course more pressing matters, so he didn't venture to figure out the pre-existing issue.

The white coat the doctor wore waved about in different directions as he limped forward and led them down to an area between two of the containers, and out to the other side. The covering above them was opaque now, and the only thing that shown was a red hue caused by the descending of the sun. "We've been keeping her hidden." He informed them over his shoulder. "I understand you work for The Faction? Are those bastards going to finally take an interest in the border colonies or is this a social visit?"

"My employers don't know I'm here. But, as a member I can assure you that I have an interest." Atticus looked about him, on the left the walls of the cliff ran up and disappeared beyond the canopy and to his right were the rear of the shipping containers, red, blue and gray colors repeating in broken patterns.

The doctor stopped and turned around resting his weight on the cane. There was a troubled look on his face, and at the same time a bemused one, he said, "What does it take for you people to do something about places that really matter? Chasing singular criminals across the countries when bigger issues are happening here than singular crimes. It's ludicrous."

"What are the bigger issues?" Atticus pressed.

The doctor grinned and shook his head, "Hunger. Appetite. Basic needs." The words were purposely cryptic and he turned back around and limped forward before stopping only a short ways on. To the right was a shipping container that was facing the wrong way from the others. He gestured with his cane, "She's in there." Atticus made to step inside but the doctors cane came up to block his advancement, "She's been through hell. Question her, but don't interrogate her. Do you get me?"

Atticus nodded to him that he understood and the cane was lowered so that Atticus could pass. There was no move to stop Edgar who also followed Atticus inside. Once inside they discovered it was dimly lit except for a few candles that were glowing from behind a white curtain. There was a strong yellow light in the center of a circle of orange light that disappeared as it extended outward. Below there steps the metal container let out an obnoxious echoes as they stepped.

"So they said you came to help me?" The girls' voice spoke.

"I'd like to," Atticus said, with the utmost and worried sincerity.

"Don't see how it matters. They are all gone anyhow." From somewhere on the other side of the curtain the silhouette of a young woman's figure grew as it approached the curtain. "They said you were with The Faction? And I prayed to whatever god there was that justice was on its way." There was a long silence.

Edgar spoke as Atticus was lost in his thought, "It is. These evil doers will not go unpunished."

"Who is that?" She was suddenly afraid. "You're the man from before. The one who wouldn't stop asking questions. Why have you returned here?" She was obviously not fond of Edgar in the slightest. Something that Atticus was discovery was a trend in Posterity.

Atticus attempted to salvage the situation, "He found me in Divinity and asked me to return here with him to seek you out." There was a long beat of silence, Atticus ventured to speak more. "I saw the streets Katniss. All emptied. Homes abandoned." He slowly stepped closer to the curtain till he was mere feet away from her divided by the cloth wall.

There was a short sniffle then she questioned, "Not one soul was there?"

Atticus leaned down to hold himself as he lowered his body down where he sat before the curtain with legs crossed. His voice was gentle and fatherly, worried and confident. "Tell me why you are in hiding in a place like this?"

Katniss' shadow sat down at the origin of the candlelight so that she was present in profile before Atticus. "The tiger eats human beings."

Atticus thought about the doctors' mention of hunger_, _and _appetite. _"It's true that in a time gone passed the early generations of their kind did eat people. But I'm not so sure the Major-"

"He does." She heatedly defended.

Edgar was inspecting his fingernails over Atticus' left shoulder as if he already knew this information. Atticus figured he'd ask Edgar why he withheld it at a later point in time.

"Is that what happened to everyone?" Atticus said.

There was more silence. Then she said, "What is your name, sir?"

"Atticus Finch." He said.

"Atticus, are you going to help me avenge them?" As if driven by madness she suddenly began saying, "The sickness takes them first," She began, "then it eats them away. Those that are lucky enough to not be exposed are rounded up and." She stopped abruptly. Rising to her feet she walked to the edge of the curtain and slowly drew it open as it slid along rings on a rail connected into the ceiling. "Are your friends coming Mr. Finch?" Her eyes were red with moisture from crying, the bags under them were sunk in deep showing signs that she hadn't been able to sleep, probably out of sheer fear.

"They might." Atticus said as he was now standing. "If they are needed I can notify them of the need."

"If I tell you the truths, they will bury me." She said as she stared him deeply in the eyes. "We must bury them first." Katniss stepped even closer to Atticus now, but then caught sight of Edgar whom she now spoke to, "You promised you'd get me back home, and then you disappeared. I heard what you did to that man who tried to get you away from me. He lost both eyes because of your bird."

Edgar shrugged, "He shouldn't have laid hands on me."

"Now that we know you are safe here, can I ask that we return after we make some inquiries of our own with the Major?" Atticus said to garner Katniss' attention back to him.

"You're just going to talk to him?" The idea absolutely mortified her.

"There's a sort of diplomatic truce when it comes to members of The Faction, and a level of influence when you carry the name." He placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke as generously as he could, "you don't need to be afraid anymore, I will help you."

Katniss nodded and let crack the briefest of smiles so small that it was hard to say if it ever even existed. Atticus turned from her and approached Edgar. "I need to speak with you outside." The man said nothing and turned to follow Atticus leaving Katniss who returned to close her curtain.

Once back against the sheltered sunlight and rough earth Atticus turned around to Edgar, "What the hell was she talking about? "

"I'm not here to tread lightly. Aside from my silent incursion into this godforsaken town, I am here to serve with righteous fury the judgment upon the hellions who dare stir trouble upon this earth." Edgar brushed passed Atticus who was standing rather baffled at the answer he had just received. He looked back over his shoulder at his impromptu partner and a voice in the back of his head warned caution. "Were we not going to speak to the Major?" Edgar called back over his shoulder.

As Atticus followed he didn't think that Edgar walking straight up to the massive tiger would be in their best interest or would help them in gathering the information that they required. It seemed such an abrasive action would cause them to be locked up or in the worst case scenario: Eaten - as Katniss had warned. "How do you suppose you will help our cause?"

Edgar stopped abruptly, "If you have distaste for this work I will proceed on alone."

"What about those people skills you said you lacked," Atticus was now beside Edgar who began walking a little slower than before, "You need to let me do, what you knew I was good at."

"Being trivial and good-hearted?" Edgar said to Atticus' great confusion, "You haven't believed my story since I met you."

"How can I expect to. Look at the state of you." Atticus challenged.

There was a sharp movement of Edgar's arms and he twisted toward Atticus with his knife. The blade was paused centimeters from his throat. "Worry yourself with your own reservations about who you think I am. Know this however, there is a villain in this plot and I will kill him and take his heart."

"So it has nothing to do with the people?"

"The people are dead. What justice you can give them, they can do nothing with. I want to silence the foul voices that pollute this world further than it already is. Save the future, what is past is passed." Edgar finished and then as if shocked at his own tenacity he removed the blade from its position and returned it to its hiding place.

Atticus rubbed a palm over his neck to assure himself that no harm had befallen him.

Edgar made to move away but stopped himself, and stepped back saying, "You have your need, the girl, I have my need, evil, together we can assist each other with our end games." Edgar looked and sounded in that moment more sincere than he had ever been, so far as Atticus had witnessed. "It's like a sickness the sound of those blackened hearts, and they can't be silenced with sleep and rationality."

Atticus wanted to part ways with the man ever since he had met him, and the want only grew with each passing moment that he learned more of Edgar. However, the need outweighed this, and ever since his eyes had laid sight upon the words of Katniss Everdeen he couldn't help but go along with Edgar's theories of conspiracy. One thing was certain if Atticus was going to investigate these matters out of his own accord there was no way to remove Edgar from the equation.

"I need to speak to Kahn alone." Atticus simply said before continuing the walk toward the hospitals gate. Edgar stood his ground.

As he stepped through the door Eleanor cawed and latched atop the edge of a roof opposite him, cocking her head every which way she cried out a few more times before lifting off into the sky. Atticus let the door go behind him, but there was no noise of it slamming shut, as the doctor stood in the way slightly out of breath.

"You couldn't take your friend with you?"

"Don't worry, he'll be good. I think." The last part Atticus mumbled under his breath and then ventured into the deserted streets of Posterity.

Shere Kahn sat nervously in his room; he had been staring at the wall in front of him for an unknown length of time. There was a great fear in him over the mention of The Faction, and a growing irritation that he might be found out. He matted down the fur on his face with his hand, and inhaled deeply. His first instinct had been to shoot the man known as Atticus Finch on the general fear of exposure, to be done with him as soon as it was made clear who he was there representing. Though, he had told the Scout Master that he was simply passing through. It was a foolhardy lie to create. No one, not a single person "passed through" the wastes. There was nothing to see, unless someone was searching.

A screaming metal bell began shrieking near the door to his quarters, and he was snapped from his trance. He rose his towering figure up and walked over to it where an antique telephone was hanging on the wall. He picked up the ear piece and spoke, "What is it?"

"It's the man from earlier. He wishes to speak with you." The young girl's voice said.

"Thank you Cecilia I'll be down right away." He hung up the phone slowly and debated his options. He snuck a quick look at the claws that protruded from under his fur to be certain of their sharpness. Then he felt against the side of his belt for his pistol holster, and when he felt secure in his methods he straightened his uniform and left the confines of his tower suite.

The elevator bell sounded as it opened, and the whirling devices hummed above him before the bell sounded a second time and the doors slid open again. Atticus was standing at the front desk talking to the girl known as Cecilia as the Major approached him. "Greetings again Mr. Finch. Have you found yourself rested?"

Atticus did not acknowledge him, and Shere Kahn gripped his fingers into a fist channeling his fear and aggression away from his thoughts. He cleared his throat, "Mr. Finch."

The small man in front of him acted as though he had only just heard or had become aware of the tiger. "Hello there Mr. Kahn, I was just telling young Cecilia here that her hospitality is top of the class. You've picked a good young person to accommodate your guests."

"The people's guests, I only serve and protect." Kahn corrected.

Atticus nodded halfheartedly and Major Kahn gritted his teeth under his false kindness. The giant looked about himself and scanned the room to see if it were free of witnesses, but as it were there was still the matter of the young girl. Atticus responded to the nervousness, "Are you feeling well Mister Kahn? I hope our detour into your hometown isn't causing you any undue stress."

"_Our_ detour? I thought it was only you?" He loosened his fist, and was now loosening his aggression to give way to paranoia.

"For now. But as you might expect, I mean, we are conducting an investigation, and given how central your town is we may find it helpful to use it as a base of operations as we do said investigating." Atticus waved his arms about in an aid to describe the words that he was saying.

Kahn swallowed a lump in his throat and gestured to the exit, and then they both began walking. "So my suspicions were true?"

"And what suspicions were those Mister Kahn?" Atticus asked.

"That this wasn't a social visit."

"Yes, I do apologize. But, you must understand that we don't know who is involved with the matters we are looking into. We have to treat each and every person as a possible suspect. You give too much of the game away then your culprits have time to cover up their tracks." Atticus was somehow acting more softened than the Major recalled he had acted when he first arrived.

Kahn ventured an inquiry, "So does this mean I am crossed off your list?" There was a knot in his stomach as he waited for an answer.

"Of course," and the knot dissipated at the words, then Atticus continued, "From what I hear the good people of your town say you serve them well here. You are without a doubt one of the highest caliber a person in your position should be at." At these words the knot returned. Kahn knew that Atticus was lying, the people never liked him. He saw it in the way they coward in fear at the sight of him, shut and locked their doors and windows. Called out to their children to come in closer to them as if there little human arms would protect them from the massive claws he possessed. Despite seeing through Atticus' charade, he played along.

"I am pleased to hear it. I am dedicated to serving the people of Posterity. It is my duty as a soldier, and an officer of her laws." He grinned a toothy grin full of pride and boastfulness for he was now privy to the lies the man was speaking. It was as they walked that he stole a glance down and imagined how tasty this man Atticus would be between his jaws. He had slight bulk in his arms, and very little heft. There would have been some tough stringy meat but the satisfaction of ending this bastard made it all seems sweeter.

"The Faction thanks you for that." When Atticus said this, the organization flashed back in his mind, and his desire to feast on the man's bones diminished. Atticus spoke again, with lies of compliment, "It's always appreciated when a public servant such as yourself keeps things in check, after all The Faction can only do so much."

Major Kahn led them back toward the city entrance through the markets Atticus had passed through previously in the day and to a long building that rested directly against the walled barrier. Like everything else this building was made up of sheet metal, the roof was in waves that dipped and rose as it was pulled as tightly as it could before being strapped down and bolted to the top of the other pieces of steel that made up the walls. As the dry arid winds blew against it, it creaked and shook as if it would fly loose at any given moment. The tiger was feeling rather triumphant at having reasoned out Atticus' deception and when they entered into the building he casually strolled through the thin halls, where the ceiling just barely brushed against the tips of his orange furred ears.

The Scout Master was seen exiting a room and wiping his hands on the side of his uniform. The cloth was still covering his jaw, and as he was distracted trying to close the jammed lavatory door he did not see his commanding officer approaching. As it was the Scout Master was blocking the forward progression. He uttered some obscenities as he opened and then pulled the door shut as forcefully as it could but it still popped back open. The little man twisted the door knob back and forth and back again trying at all cost to get it to latch. Kahn simply stood towering over him, his deep heated breaths running from his nostrils down the length of his coat till they passed upon the back of his subordinate.

The tiger eyed him furiously as the man turned around in stiffening fear. There was a notable shaking in his arms, and all of his beings, and Shere Kahn loved the reaction he received from this man. The only one out of every one who still reacted the same way, the only person who may or may not have pissed himself in cowardice whenever the feline behemoth strolled by. The Scout Master bowed his head and pressed his body hard up against the wall trying his best to be as thin as paper.

"As you were," Kahn mumbled as he passed.

"He's a curious sort isn't he?" Atticus observed as he cast his eyes at the Scout Master, who still had Atticus' rifle slung over his shoulder.

The tiger let out a bemused chuckle and turned to his right into a room at the end of the hall. "That's one word for him." Inside there was a large oaken desk with a similar set of chairs that looked far too antique and priceless to be in a place such as this. As he sat he placed his claws into the clawed outlines on the desks surface and produced some deeper ones as strands of wood appeared where he now cut. He liked watching the people's reactions as they witnessed the act for they never failed to look terrified or down right disheartened at the idea of being torn by such appendages. Yet, when he was looking at Atticus the man seemed not the least bit interested in casting his eyes at the enormous claws that were now ending their tearing at the edge of the desk.

There was a long stretch of silence before Atticus broke it, "As you may or may not be aware I am looking for a girl. A human girl around the age of 17, named Katniss. Do you know this girl?"

Shere Kahn sat back in his office chair and twiddled his thumbs as he shook his head.

"What is Snow Industries?"

"Some industry that asked permission to mine in our surrounding mines, they closed up shop not more than a few weeks ago. There was a representative here till that moment." It wasn't a complete lie, and he figured if he kept it vague he wouldn't need to cause the man to recall anything that would be incriminating.

"What were they mining for?"

"Ore. Oil. Gold. You name it, if you have the time and the manpower you'll find it out there." Kahn picked at his teeth with a long white claw, before spitting on the floor.

"The Faction frightens you doesn't it?" Atticus asked.

Kahn said nothing.

"Now why is that? The way I see it an innocent man has nothing to hide." Atticus placed his feet upon the desk and put his laced fingers under the back of his head for support. "Do you have the _hunger_?"

Major Kahn gritted his carnivore's teeth as an immediate fury took him over, "You dare insult me!" He gnashed. "Any school child knows that it is absolutely taboo for a humanoid to feast on another humanoid for sustenance. As has been the way of the world for years passed." His fur tensed and bristled.

"Must be hard to taste the sweet nectar of a human knowing that it is awfully inconvenient to have to hunt them down. Is that what you are trying to do to the Katniss girl?" Atticus rocked back forth in his chair in hardly noticeable pushes. He waved off his path of inquiry and asked, "How does one become the chief officer in a place like this?"

Kahn tried to compose himself back to civility. It had annoyed him that the man would bring up the idea of human feasting and then brush it off. It was an absolutely vulgar accusation to make, whether or not it carried weight. He couldn't deny the observation however, having himself taken a liking the human meat Atticus had provided an apt description of the hunger pains he now endured. Instead of continuing his offense at the insult he changed the pitch in his voice and responded to the fresh question, "Hard work. It's still not entirely popular even out in the wastes to have a humanoid in any position of power. But, I've demonstrated my resolve more than enough to tear through any prejudice."

"Or opposition." Atticus reasoned.

"Okay Mr. Finch," the tiger said as he placed his elbows on the desk to lean forward lacing his fingers together, and sliding down to Atticus' level, "I may or may not have had to ring a few necks - if you get my meaning. It is practically impossible to affect change in a place like this without doing exactly that. We don't have corporations supporting our civilization."

"It's survival of the fittest then?"

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Kahn was pleased with himself and that same high and mighty demeanor was present over him as he gloated in his greatness. Then he ventured questions of his own, "Have you had any head way with finding this, what was her name again?"

"Katniss."

"Ah, yes Katniss. Has your investigating caused her to appear? I must say though, I feel you are wasting your time. The people are not particularly fond of outsiders." This was also a true statement. All he had to do was bark orders at one of his men, or break the fingers of a thief and every one saw him as a monstrous force to be reckoned with. The people would never want to be on his bad side, and thus distrusted visitors – or so he thought "I'm afraid the longer you stick around the more nervous you will make them."

"As nervous as you are?" Atticus removed his feet from the desk and edged in closer to it, then he said in the most threatening and cocky tone, "Do your people know that you've grown a taste for the local populace?"

"I don't know who is giving you your information but I can assure you that you are mistaken."

Atticus leaned closer to the Major and in the same tone said, "It'd be better just to tell me rather than have my people find it out."

Kahn growled and rushed his paw forward gripping his fist around the man's throat gripping tighter and tighter with each passing moment. His claws were present the tips of which began to draw slight amounts of blood that began trickling on his fur.

Underneath the force of his might Atticus let escape the words, "My people know I'm here Khan."

"So," He pretended not to care but even as he said it he knew what that would mean. He could easily dispense of this annoyance here and now but that would mean more men, more questions, and more eyes where he didn't want them. Slowly he calmed himself, releasing a hot wave of breath over his tongue. When he let go Atticus was dropped into his chair as the tiger had been holding him slightly off the ground.

Atticus coughed terribly as he wiped the blood from around his neck.

Shere Kahn walked over to a large bowl of water and soaked his paws rubbing each one clean before shaking them off. The bloody fog floated about in the liquid as he stared down and an urge built inside of him to lick his fur clean. He wanted to taste the man's blood, but he instead resisted. He cracked a smile and turned around to face his victim. "I'm not an animal Mr. Finch, but if you threaten me like that again I'll rip you in half as one." And with that he left the room leaving Atticus to continue his recovery.

On his way out of his office the Scout Master was still frantically trying to get the door to latch. Instead of waiting for him to figure it out Shere Kahn simply knocked into him with his shoulder which caused the man to be pushed into the lavatory once again. The fury was building in him as his nostrils flared, and he was panicked as well. He couldn't deny that his temper was getting the best of him and that he shouldn't have laid hands on this Atticus Finch but he had. Terrified of the repercussions that would cause he figured that only more Faction members showing up would be worse. In a way he didn't believe Atticus' story, but there was enough happening here that The Faction may be involved, but for what reason there was no profit in places like this. He had been assured that when he accepted the offer. Could the girl have gotten out of town without him knowing about it? He didn't think it likely. Outside of his offices he stared out into the streets searching for anyone who may have been watching him, and he inhaled deeply the dry desert air. This was his domain, and he hated not being aware of everything that happened within it.

Atticus coughed again as he stepped out of the offices and stood beside the Major. "It's only a matter of time till you're in shit up to your ears." And with that the man walked off.

With slanted and furious vision Kahn watched him while his eyes looked to the town again and he vowed within himself to punish whoever was talking to this man. This stranger. Then the panic peaked its head in and he felt alone. None of his men knew of the deal he had made. He had no one to turn to but to those he conspired with. What would they think of him seeking their help in this matter? He had assured them that he could keep things locked down, and covered up. That no one would find anything. After a beat he returned inside.

The Scout Master was aware of him this time and sprawled himself against the wall to be clear of his commander. There was a rumbling in the tigers stomach and he paused in front of his subordinate in that moment, "My apologize Scout Master, I didn't mean to be so abrasive." The Scout Master's shaking seem to cease and he appeared to well up with happiness at these words, as if honored that his boss was speaking to him on his level. Kahn continued, "I need to make a call, but please come to my office in a few minutes I'd like to hear your report for today." Then he just as quickly moved on.

Hidden inside his office Shere Kahn sat at his desk and then lifted up a field radio. He cranked a handle to feed it the juice to function. The device crackled and he removed the ear and mouthpiece and spoke, "Posterity to Facility F. Posterity to Facility F." He waited impatiently growling and gritting his teeth. The speaker crackled with static and then a muffled voice spoke.

"Go ahead Posterity."

"We may have an issue, I'm having trouble locating the girl and a third party is taking interest in her whereabouts." Another lengthy pause followed this.

"Are you compromised?"

"Maybe."

The voice repeated, "Are you compromised?"

"Yes." He hated the admittance.

"Who is the interested party?"

"A nobody."

"So you're prepared to accept our operative into your city?"

Kahn thought about it for a moment, and drew a long breath before saying, "I am."

"What have you told them?"

"Nothing." He waited again for a response but there was none. Then the machine shut off severing the radio link. "Hello? Hello?" He spoke frantically. He growled and pushed the device off the table. A heated rage filled him and he dug his claws into the wood of the desk till he was digging in so hard that a large chunk broke off from the edge of it. The room seemed tight and the growling in his stomach was growing louder. He needed to soothe the irritation and it was then that the Scout Master knocked on his door.

"You're lucky he didn't rip your head from your shoulders." The doctor said as he cleaned up the scratches around Atticus' neck. "So you went to rile him up for what purpose?"

Edgar chimed in as he had been standing just in the corner, "To see if my conspiracy had weight." Atticus exchanged the slightest of glances with the man, "If they didn't then Atticus wouldn't have returned. There's another work at play here that Kahn orders to. This only strengthens that case."

The doctor shook his head, "Seems like an awful gamble."

"It was. Some would say insane." Edgar said.

"But not you?" Atticus added staring at the morose man who seemed to not be complete without his bird.

Edgar for the first time let loose a smile, and nodded without any words. He found a place at the entrance of Katniss' container and sat to rest and keep guard. The girl had been sitting and staring at her lone candle as Atticus had recounted his story. "I could have told you that there was more to this." She seemed rather betrayed in her words. "Why didn't you just ask?"

As the doctor finished placing a bandage on his neck Atticus used his rifle to support him as he rose from the ground. He took a kneeling stance next to Katniss who would not make eye contact with him, "What do you know of Kahn's involvement?"

"Not much." She stated.

"But you knew he was eating humans?"

"There was this guy, the baker's son, after the sickness had spread, we escaped. And well, we found Posterity, and."

"Major Kahn found you two?"

She nodded. "He said he liked the smell of our fear. Said it gave him cravings." A tear trickled down her cheek onto her chin and into the wax that was running along the length of the small table. "I watched him eat him."

"How did you escape?" Atticus quickly asked trying to remove her thoughts from what must have been a horrifying ordeal.

"The man with the scarf, the Major left and he came in and untied me. I had been hung up like meat in a butcher's shop." There was a beat and then she said, "They need to pay."

"Who are they?"

"Snow." She said, "Snow Industries needs to pay." Before she could say more she began coughing harshly into her fist. The doctor came to her aid quickly and ushered her to her cot where he laid her down and placed a wet towel on her head.

Atticus stared at the flickering flame on the almost extinguished candle as the doctor approached him. "Do you think your questions can wait till morning? She needs rest." The man pointed with his cane to the entrance of the storage container where Atticus moved to sit with Edgar. Both of them stared at the barely lit world before them. They stared at the rocks of the cliff face and up at the barb wired canopy. They did not intend to sleep that night, for they both knew that they had just kicked the hornets nest.


	4. Chapter 4

Episode Four

"Why the Faction?" It was a question posed by Edgar about two hours into their guard duties at the medical sector. Behind them in muted darkness Katniss was either sleeping or attempting to, while the two men kept their eyes locked on the world ahead of them. It was strange to Atticus that Edgar was the one to break the silence, but the question came and Atticus' mind trying to stave off sleep ventured to answer it. He rubbed the corner of his eye with his index finger as he thought it over before saying, "I wanted to help people. That's at the core of everything." And while this was truth he didn't think it'd be enough to satisfy his partner's curiosity so before Edgar could have a chance to scoff at his response Atticus added, "The Faction has influence, it carries heft. You toss it around, and you can see just how much by the reactions of the guilty and the innocent. The Major for example, had I not been a member of The Faction he may not have let me onto these streets, or even if he had the people of Posterity may not have had a reason to confide in me."

"I have plenty of success in achieving my ends without the heft of some name. It must burden you to have to be in their debt?" Edgar added.

Atticus shrugged, "What reason could I have to cross them? I don't question how other contractors do their business. This world has already fallen into hell; I suppose I rationalize it that I myself can use the name in a justifiable and meaningful way." Edgar was just staring over to him his head cocked and his eyes disbelieving what he was hearing.

"There's more to this isn't there? There are plenty of private militia groups out there, policing the world, but you chose the biggest most powerful one, and some would say most corrupt. Why?"

Atticus thought for a moment, unsure if he really wanted to let loose his real reasons, but then he began, "My wife is pregnant with our second child. When she was pregnant with the first we were attacked by some local organized criminal types. Influential, second only to The Faction. Let's just say in the heat of things I may or may not have had a hand in the death of a close acquaintance of one of their higher ups."

"I would have never thought you the impulsively murderous type. Did you let your emotions get away from you?" He joked.

"You could say that." Atticus stared blankly ahead of him, before saying surprising himself and saying, "They beat her, and well, nearly worse. We almost lost my son, Jem." He didn't know why he offered up the boy's name, but it didn't matter now, "Because of them he was born premature. If I hadn't done what I done I wouldn't have gotten her the help they needed."

"Then you were approached by The Faction?"

"No, I approached them. We had parted ways years earlier back when I had more of a conscience. Back when I had some of the same reservations as you do about the work they often did, or didn't do. The fear of reprisals brought me crawling back to their door step."

"So it's true then? The fortress city of Maycomb exists?"

"Yes. Yes, it's true." Atticus turned his head away from Edgar to signify that he was ready to be finished with the conversation, and Edgar asked no more. In his mind the faces of his wife and two year old son flashed. It had been seven months since he'd seen either of them, and she would be so close to giving birth to their new child soon, which he had vowed to be home for, but here he was now chasing corporations and bad guys. If only society hadn't collapsed, then maybe he could live quietly. As it were someone needed to deal with the filth, lest it spread farther.

Within that moment of reflection Edgar was standing to his feet. His eyes searched the shadows in front of him like an alert hound that had become aware of its prey. Slowly Edgar's hand reached for his antique pistol and he pressed the hammer back aiming it into the blackness. Atticus wasn't aware of anything, but removed the knife from his boot just the same. The ambient sounds of midnight bugs were all that were present, a nearly silent wind scratched upon the surface of the canopy above. With knife held firmly in his fist Atticus was now alert as well, though he wasn't sure for what purpose. There had been no change in the last few hours that warranted extra precaution but as his partner was behaving as though there had been, Atticus only thought it intelligent to follow suit.

Only stillness persisted. Only the feeling of chill desert airs rested upon the minute hairs upon their exposed necks and wrists. Slowly the men stepped in closer to one another to block as best they could the entrance to Katniss' quarters, but in truth their bodies left much of the area still exposed.

"Breach!" The doctor's voice rang out on the other side of the shipping containers, "Breach!" He yelled again. There was the sound of gun fire, the finalizing grunts of wounded men. Then silence. The sounds of the brief resistance had been an all-encompassing mess of noise that there could be no soul who had not heard. Now, it was reduced back to the simplicity of the desert night life.

Katniss' feet echoed in her box as she rushed toward Atticus and Edgar, "What's happened?" She frantically requested, but Atticus was halting her progress as he had turned to meet her as he heard her advances. "You need to let me go I can help, I have a bow and arrow. I can handle myself." Atticus looked back over his shoulder at Edgar who was stepping further into the desert. Within her eyes Atticus saw that there was no point in stopping her determination.

In compromise he said, "Keep yourself inside, we'll keep him busy."

"Keep who busy?" Katniss didn't understand, nor did Atticus who assumed only that Shere Kahn had tracked her down. It wasn't admissible that Atticus may have even led the tiger right to her, but he shook his head.

"The Major."

She thought it over in her mind for a moment before stepping back inside.

Edgar let out a low whistle to garner Atticus' attention and Atticus returned to his partner's side. "Do you see anything?"

"Nothing, there's someone out there I'm assuming but I can't feel anything." Edgar strained his eyes in the darkness. Atticus didn't want to take the time to argue with him over his evil sensing so he ignored the last of Edgars words.

They had taken a few steps out when they heard the footsteps on metal behind them. Light and hidden steps but nonetheless they could not be smothered in the dead of the night. Edgar turned as quickly as he could and took aim atop Katniss' container and fired. The shadow of a figure slid down from the roof of the box dodging the round, and proceeded inside.

"Katniss!" Atticus tried to shout out as the pair of them rushed for the open container. They didn't pause even as they saw behind her curtain silhouetted in candle light the assailant and the victim, the blade entered quickly behind her neck and then she fell lifeless to the floor, her body sending an echoing thud through the chamber. The mysterious figure knocked away the candle light and all was lost in darkness.

Atticus and Edgar's blades were readied before them listening to what only appeared to be the sound of the wind, and the speed at which it moved left them no room to react. They twisted themselves to look toward the entrance and the shadowed character was disappearing from sight. Edgar proceeded to give chase, but Atticus halted himself, and looked back toward the darkness that Katniss was lying in.

If she still was drawing breath he couldn't leave her alone enveloped in the pitch black room of cold unfeeling steel. He passed beyond her curtain and then struck a match from the matchbox in his pant pocket. The small light was extended before him as he leaned down to inspect her face. About her chin the color of crimson was heavy, but as he inspected her eyes he could see that she was indeed gone. The blow ended her instantaneously, for that Atticus was thankful. He drew her eyelids shut slowly with his middle and fore finger, and said a silent prayer. Without another hesitation he turned to join Edgar's pursuit.

The muffled and frantic voices of people could be heard on the other side of the wall of shipping containers as Atticus rushed through, he still had his knife in hand and his eyes cast about him and onto the tops of the containers in case the assassin showed himself again. Within him anger slowly boiled in his veins. To see the young woman fading away as she was covered in her own blood on the floor was something he did not expect. What had been the point of his promises to only have them dashed away by a blade in the night? He could only hope that she had gone as peacefully as she could. The assassin had not been cruel, but he had been precise.

When he rounded the corner he was surprised to find Edgar kneeling beside a wounded woman with a strap of shotgun shells running over her shoulder. There was a gash in her right leg that was bleeding mildly, and Edgar was wrapping the torn sleeve of her shirt above the wound. He said something to the woman about keeping pressure on the laceration and then he was up when Atticus arrived by his side.

"How many are dead?" Atticus asked as he looked around the scene. There were several others down on the earth who nursed similar wounds.

"Not a one." Edgar answered. "Is the girl gone?"

"She is."

"Then she was all they cared about." Edgar stepped over the girl's leg and marched toward the gate. "I think we need to pay a visit to the Major."

Atticus made to protest for he wasn't so sure The Major was the one who had attacked them, but there was no denying with the events of the previous day that Shere Kahn was not without guilt. As if on cue Eleanor swooped down and perched on her master's shoulder and Edgar made no acknowledgment of the bird as he slid his knife into the place in his coat.

Atticus paused a moment to return the knife to his boot.

As they walked through the streets of Posterity the people began to exit their homes to bear witness to the cause of the carnage that they had overheard. Women and men dressed in sleeper clothes, and children rubbing the tired from their eyes with one hand while a stuffed toy dangled from the other also were in inspection. They inspected the two strangers with curiosity, but did not intervene, they did not move to see what the matter was, they did not yell for help. Atticus assumed that any problems they thought they had would have been because of Shere Kahn, and since Shere Kahn ran their policing force why would they call for the very one they feared.

Atticus was marching with purpose. However, the guilt of Katniss was heavy on him, and his feelings of responsibility for that place where she lay in her own blood. He then gave it over to a feeling of anger. He imagined the suffering she must have endured, the panic of watching someone you cared about being devoured by a ravenous humanoid. What had she gone through before that moment? Lost in the wasteland, and then saved by said ravenous beast. What other ordeals pre-dated that? Atticus wanted all of the answers now more than ever, and since Katniss was gone, Kahn was the only one who could give them.

The Major was not at his office. As Atticus stepped in it wasn't hard to miss the corpse of the Scout Master resting against the row of filing cabinets on the far wall. His flesh torn out of his stomach a gaping hole and his intestines lay out beside his right thigh. His chin was down against his chest, and an incision about the same size as those in the desk ran the length of his neck. In his blood pools the stock of Atticus' rifle soaked up small amounts of red in its wooded bottom.

Atticus stood in momentary shock just inside the doorway, but Edgar was not put off by the sight, in fact it seemed he barely acknowledged the gruesome image. Eleanor cawed and flew down to the cemented floor and picked up a bit of entrails in her beak and scarfed them down. The bird only moved as Edgar stepped forward to retrieve Atticus' rifle. Atticus was still immobile. This had been his fault as well he reasoned, having pushed the tiger too far, having driven him to anger, this man was a byproduct.

"I believe this is yours." Edgar said holding out the strap of the rifle for Atticus to take. Atticus grabbed it and as he did the bird briefly fluttered back to the gore and began poking its beak about. Atticus took in the grisly image of the Scout Master one last time before throwing the strap over his shoulder and turning to leave.

Once outside they both knew exactly where to go next: Tenpenny Tower.

Atticus had the blood stained stock of his rifle firmly planted into his shoulder as he entered the opened doors of the tower. The lobby as it had been the few others times he had been in it was empty. The dead plants yellowed and drooping into their pots. It was substantially more silent in the high ceilinged room than it had been previously, and Atticus thoughts went to Cecilia, and he feared that the small girl may have found her way into Kahn's savage path. Edgar was walking at a sideways angle keeping an eye to their back and his pistol loaded and readied to fire upon anyone who dared sneak up on them.

As they passed the front desk there was a shuffle of feet on the floor and Atticus turned sharply with his rifle and immediately lowered it when the girl in the yellow dress coyly rose up her hands, a confused and terrified look on her face.

"Mr. Finch, is there a problem sir?" She asked her arms still raised in the air.

"Maybe Cecilia, I want you to go to your parents."

"I don't have any parents." She offered.

"Then go to the town square, will you do that for me Cecilia?" Atticus tried to sound as calm as he could, his eyes still occasionally looking about him afraid that The Major was hiding just around the next corner. She never dropped her hands as she nodded and uttered an innocent, "Uh-huh, yes sir, Mr. Atticus sir." Her arms remained skyward as she stepped around the front desk and she made her way to the door. It wasn't until she was safely just outside the door that she put her hands down and began running.

After pressing the elevator button the pair trained their weapons on the space behind the steel doors but when they slid open the small room was empty, and then they proceeded to board. Atticus pressed the button for Kahn's floor and the machines whirled lowly overhead, as Atticus took a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. It wasn't until now that he even realized that the dawn had arrived while they were out running on the streets. When he saw the little girl leaving the sun was already beaming onto the cement just outside the tower. He was beginning to believe that the tiger may have already escaped.

The dinging of the bell sounded and the heavy doors moved apart.

As if on cue the sound of a crashing glass echoed down the emptied hallways of the top floor, and the pair followed the sound around the corner.

In his room the Major seemed to be bursting out of his uniform as he was slumped over. The spine of his jacket was torn with his tiger fur bursting out in a ruffled mess. He hurled a suitcase to his side and it slammed and burst forth its contents all over oak dresser that sat against the wall. Slabs and messes of bloodied matter were splattered on the wooded surface and against the wall paper. It dripped and pooled and Atticus was acutely aware that it was the pieces of The Scout Master that Kahn was taking as a snack while he would be fleeing.

The tiger growled and ran both his bloodied paws over his ears backwards as he gritted, "You bastards are not going to survive this. I'm going to tear your throats out between my teeth. I'm going to bathe in your entrails and I'm going to lap up the blood as though it were the very water that flooded the wells beneath us." There was a rumble from the depth of Khan's throat that reverberated in a nasty low growl. He peaked his head to his left so that he could look back at them. "I should have known that Edgar Allan Poe would be your accomplice. He was asking questions before, and then he just vanished before I could sink my teeth into him." The yellow eyes were locked on Edgar as his teeth were exposed and he snarled in an animalistic rage.

Edgar took a step before Atticus his pistol resting down at his waist in the most casual fashion imaginable. Atticus wasn't about to admit that he wasn't terrified at the towering presence but Edgar seemed unaffected as though fear were not a part of his emotions. "I want you to know something Major."

Kahn gritted his teeth a low rumble in his throat, "And what's that?"

"I'm going to gouge out your heart while you are still breathing." Edgar smirked and Kahn's eyes slanted.

"Remember we need him alive." Atticus whispered out of the side of his mouth.

In that instance the Major tensed and dashed forward and Edgar casually brought up his pistol and fired a shot into the tiger's knee. There was the brief sound of shattering bone as the tiger slid forward and stumbled to the spot where Edgar had once stood but had just narrowly moved from. A tremendous thud shook the room as the weight of the humanoid shook what seemed like the entire floor.

As Kahn made to push himself up Edgar as kneeling beside him and he slowly removed the knife from its sheath and twirled it a moment in his hand before slamming it into the flesh of the tigers paw. Kahn let out of a cry of pain and made to grab the handle of the weapon but Edgar quickly moved it and climbed atop his victim's back pressing the knife through the bunch of fur to the flesh of his neck. "How did you find the girl?" Edgar demanded. When the tiger didn't answer Edgar pressed the blade in a little tighter causing the tiger to let out a momentary yelp. Edgar asked again, "How did you know where the girl was?"

"He didn't." Atticus answered for the humanoid. "But he did call for help from somebody. So who was it Kahn? Who did you have kill her?"

"So she's gone?" Kahn cackled. "Then it's done, your game is over. Another victim you couldn't save. Oh how good she would have tasted sliding down my tongue filling my stomach with that young fresh flesh." He slurped and licked his chops.

Edgar released the tiger's neck and Kahn gasped for air.

"You mean he wasn't the one who got to her?"

"Doubtful, whoever it was, was light on their feet." Atticus still had the gun trained on the head of his target as he stepped directly in front of the downed tiger. "So how do we find Snow Industries?"

Kahn shook his head, "How would it matter if I told you anything I'll be good as dead either way."

Edgar stepped to where Atticus was as he began pouring powder into his antique pistol. "We'll figure things out. The way I figure is I have five more rounds to put in various places in your body to allow a rather painful slow agonizing end. But, once you're sprawled out on the floor unable to move after your various punctures I'll use my trusty old blade to saw through your chest cavity, and tear from you that fist of flesh you call a heart. You'll still breathe as the final beats leave it." Edgar finished loading the pistol as he finished up his threat and aimed it at the tigers shoulder.

"Edgar, we can't." Atticus protested.

In that moment Edgar had made to make a protest of his own to Atticus but Shere Kahn lunged forward pushing the slender frame of Edgar into the wall. The tiger grimaced and nearly dragged himself out of the room in a surprisingly quick fashion.

Atticus rushed to his partners side who violently brushed him off, "No you daft bastard go after that son of a bitch!" And even as Edgar demanded this of Atticus, he led the way out of the room leaving behind his pistol and holding his knife out in killing fashion.

As soon as they exited the room they heard the bell of the elevator and the doors were beginning to slide closed but Edgar thrust his arm in and the doors opened back up. Shere Kahn was crouched in the corner nursing his leg watching the pair enter in his peripheral vision. Both of the men stood on the side of the wall opposite of Kahn as the doors shut.

Edgar pointed the tip of his blade at the tiger, "You got some balls Major." There was something feral about the way Edgar spit out the words.

Then Kahn spit right back, "Yeah, big hairy balls." A small grin spread over Edgar's face and he made to move forward but then there was the sound of a thud above them on the elevator boxes roof that halted his advance. All three of them, both men and the humanoid stared above them as the sounds of steps clamored against the metal encasement.

There was a long moment where the whirling of the elevator machine and the footsteps were all that were heard beyond the heavy breathing of the odd and bloodied trio. Atticus kept his rifle barrel trained on the Major but his eyes were not, they were cast at the ceiling. He swallowed a lump in his throat. Then for an instance the footsteps stopped.

The blade the punctured through the ceiling was coated in blood and in a lightning fast motion it cut in a devastating circle so that rounded chunk of metal fell loose from the ceiling and collided with an intense ping against the metal floor. From this hole a body entered and landed against the ground with an unusually light fall. The figure was clothed in a tight skeletal formed body armor of gray and dirt orange. Then he stood to his full stature. He moved his head around and upon it was a helmet of clean reflective steel. The faceplate had indentations that ran from four directions to a bright red glowing in the center.

Then Major Kahn began chuckling to himself. He lifted himself up with the aid of the railing. His tone was vengeful and cocky, "You see the hell you have brought on yourself." He pulled a knife from his pocket and brandished it staring down Edgar now who had taken a step back and lowered his own weapon as he was perplexed by this strange ninja person who now entered their narrative.

"Kill them!" Khan snarled, but was quickly silenced as the exoskeleton armor wearing ninja jabbed his katana blade behind him and up through the tiger's jaw which exited through the top of his head which released a mist of blood. The blade was quickly removed then and the gigantic body of Shere Kahn fell dead limp to the floor.

"Oh shit." Edgar mumbled under his breath.

The ninja took no pause and made to strike at Edgar next and he would have but the swing was far too broad and was caught through the hole the ninja had cut and pierced through parts of the ceiling even bursting some bulbs in the overhead light fixture. Atticus made to fire his rifle but the ninja's free hand grabbed the barrel of the gun and pulled it forward which in turn – because of the rifle strap - yanked the body of Atticus forward and the ninja let loose of the barrel only to throw a punch that connected with Atticus' incoming face.

The blow had been unnaturally powerful and he was hurled back into the wall. He tried to compose himself and rise to his feet but he felt dizzy and fell again

In the meantime the ninja used both hands in attempt to recover his sword that was still stuck in the ceiling. Seeing an opening Edgar made to strike with his knife but the ninja gripped hard against the handle of his sword and lifted himself up lifting up and then throwing his legs up so that Edgar's neck was trapped between the ninja's feet. Edgar made to slice with his knife in attempt to free himself, but the ninja used tossed him aside with his legs. This move sent Edgar into the metal doors of the descending elevator.

Once again as Atticus recovered he made to aim his rifle and fire at the assailant but like clockwork the ninja slid a leg under Atticus feet which sent him onto his back with a painfully harsh drop. After this the ninjas attention returned to Edgar who had quickly returned to his feet but the powerful foot of the ninja was slamming into his sternum. Edgar was quickly losing his breath and felt near death as several of these kicks occurred in quick succession. The bell sounded and the elevator doors opened as the ninjas next kick sent Edgar sailing into the hallway only to collapse indefinitely as he gasped for the air about him.

Instead of going directly for Atticus next the ninja first retrieved his sword, and upon this sight Atticus wasted no time exiting the elevator and running down the hallway.

Soon the shadow of the ninja was gaining and Atticus realizing he wouldn't be able to out run his assailant spun around holding his rifle at the stock and at the barrel as the sword came down roughly. Steel met steel sending Atticus back a few steps as the ninja's blows were knocked back with a ping. Again the blade was coming down and frantically Atticus met it again, and it continued for a couple more strikes. In the third strike Atticus deflection was with the wooden stock and the blade became embedded within in it. He twirled his gun around causing the grip of the ninja's sword to become entangled. Going arm over arm with his rifle in a quick twist he sent both weapons to the ground. Atticus felt a moment of triumph but the tank like blast from the ninja's fist to his chest left him gasping for breath as he fell to the ground. And as if drawn to the blade the ninja returned for it his glowing red eye reflected on its bloodied steel surface. The ninja placed one of his armored feet up on the rifle and gripped the handle of his sword trying to yank it up, but had slight difficulty in retrieving it.

An instant terror burst out of Atticus as his breath forced its way out of his lungs. Still attempting to breathe he faltered as he turned and ran away from the scene. After he rounded a corner he entered a room – as none of them were of course locked – and quickly shut the door. He rushed through the room to the far window and peaked out. It would appear he was still about three floors up. He opened the window, which had to be forced since it hadn't been used in quite some time. Outside was a rusted and degraded looking fire escape that ran down to the street below. Atticus felt a brief hesitation as he stepped out, placing one leg out and then the other. His weight shook the whole structure and it whined and creaked and the dry arid wind caused Atticus' breathing to be harsher. He turned and slid the window down. Before his eyes the ninja burst through the door of the hotel room, and Atticus looked down the fire escape. He took one more look of hesitation before frantically beginning his descent.

He had no sooner reached the end of the steep stairs than the window was shattered into fragments. The ninja had launched him with a momentous leap through the window sailing through the air with the bits of glass. His arms extended before him his hands readied to latch onto the railing. As his fist clenched the browned rusted metal, he hand over hand rotated his body around so that he was at a blinding velocity throwing himself to the level that Atticus was now on. Narrowly missing the landing of the ninja Atticus turned himself to continue down the next set of stairs as the ninja drew the katana from its sheath and slashed at him.

In an effort to duck under the blow Atticus lost his footing and stumbled feet first in repeated thuds down the stairs landing on his ass but not for long as he steadied himself and made to round to the next descent. Only a few hours ago had he felt at ease in his methods. Calmly calculating how to get his prey to come out of hiding, never had he believed such a super human assassin would be called upon to destroy those that tried to seek the truths. This was supposed to be to appease Edgar, to help the man with his conspiracies. Then it was supposed to be to help Katniss, but it appeared he had only sped up the inevitable process of her demise. Here he was running and climbing for his life, and it was all because his own foolish choices.

The ninja didn't do another one of its fancy flips but instead followed the path of Atticus rounding down the steps at a more alarming speed then Atticus had managed. Above them Edgar was finally catching up with the madness. He lifted the window pane up and glass fell about him, and as he climbed over the ledge pieces were kicked off onto the metal frame work which was shaking more violently than before with the extra weight that was happening as a direct result of the chase below them. If he hadn't been so single minded on trying to stop the ninja, Edgar may have reconsidered jumping onto the already testing metal working of the fire escape. As it was he didn't consider anything and the tip top of the structure broke loose from the bricked walls as it tilted forward. It sent Edgar skidding forth only to catch himself against the railing before him. His knee and stomach slamming into the metals parts a pained grunt emanated from him and the metal screamed in the desert air and then caught itself by the bolts that were still attached the few more flights down.

The ninja and Atticus had both halted to hold their place on the surface as it wobbled and bent overhead, but they were both now on the last layer. Instead of going to climb down the ladder that extended to the ground, Atticus spun around with his knife and slashed at the assailant who was making to strike. As if only expecting his target to be fleeing the ninja's chest was exposed as he had raised his blade overhead to strike and Atticus cut open a section of the armor. There was a nearly silent jolt of electricity before a small trickle of blood like liquid began seeping from it. However, it was not red, but white, it was artificial blood.

Taking another angle the blade was slashed and managed to cut through the shoulder of Atticus shirt. The pain was immediately felt and all Atticus would have liked to do was nurse what was soon to be exploding with his life force, but he chose instead to charge at the ninja sending both it and him over the railing behind and onto the surface about ten feet below.

Above this Edgar was still on the slanted fire escape looking down to see the pair of them directly below him. The impact had slammed the blade from the ninjas hand, and Atticus was rolling from what he supposed was the corpse of the attacker. The ninja however lay prostrate only for a moment before turning to Atticus and gripping at his throat. He climbed over him and began choking him.

Edgar stepped over the railing and readied himself at the top aiming himself from his two story drop. Then he leapt forward falling frantically through the air and embedding his knee and body weight into the ninjas back. The angle was just right that the impact had sent the ninja and Edgar at a place to the side of Atticus' body.

The ninja tried to stand up but it was Edgar's foot that slammed the steel encasing of its head into the pavement. It pressed a palm to the ground to lift itself, but Edgar had already returned with the ninja's very weapon and forcefully inserted it through the assassin's heart. A surge of electricity could be heard as the ninjas head convulsed about staring up into the heavens before suddenly going as stiff as a board and falling backward the blade protruding from its chest and out its back.

As he did when he saved him from The Joker Edgar extended a hand down to help Atticus up to his feet. Now as their attacker seemed dead Atticus pressed his hand into the wounded shoulder and it was coated in a fresh wave of blood. The two stared at one another and then at the ninja both attempting to catch their breath, both aware of their injuries and pains.

"It's a machine?" Edgar spoke first.

Atticus merely nodded as he rubbed his bloody hand against the red burns against his throat where the ninja had been choking him.

"He has blood." Edgar walked over the corpse kneeling down and rubbing his finger against the chest and producing some of the artificial mess. "He's a cyborg then?"

Atticus shrugged this time and began to tear the sleeve of his shirt where the sword had cut into it. "You know, it's not actually as deep as I'd figured it'd be."

"That's because I was trying to hold myself back." The muffled voice of the ninja said from underneath the steel of his faceplate. Edgar moved back in quick shocked steps and then made to move at the supposed dead man but the ninja sat up and held out a palm, "Stop." It commanded, and Edgar halted.

Atticus' curiosity caused him to take a step closer, "You killed an innocent girl, and for some reason The Major and nearly did the same to us." Atticus had his own knife in his hand as the rest of his palm was still holding the cut in his arm.

"These words are true," the ninja said, "I would not deny you your revenge, but if I may speak a moment, I can assure you that the hand that caused the blade to enter and extinguish the life of that girl was not mine. It was the protocol put into my systems output. It is an inhibitor technology that allows me to live in half a real body. It allows those who control me to guarantee I stay on task. My brain is my brain but the inhibitor has over riding authority to cause me to execute any matter of tasks even those I would not normally participate in." He brought his palm to his face plate and pulled it off from him. The dark skinned man underneath looked world weary and apologetic, both gentle and terrifying. In clearer tones he continued lastly saying, "I have told you my case now end me if you deem it a necessity for the atrocities I conducted, god knows it would be a just action."


End file.
